


Append: Insurgency

by GalaxyThreads



Series: Append (v). Def: To Add Onto Something Previous [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Divergence - Pre-Thor (2011), Canon-Typical Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hela (Marvel) needs a hug, Hela Wasn't Banished Before Thor: God of Thunder, Hela is a Good Bro, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Loki & Peter Parker Friendship, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Parent Heimdall, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Prison, Protective Avengers, Protective Siblings, Psychological Torture, Ross should be stabbed, SHIELD is not HYDRA, The Avengers Are Good Bros, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-11-04 05:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyThreads/pseuds/GalaxyThreads
Summary: Fear is a powerful master. It bends and breaks people. Fear can make someone take drastic actions they otherwise wouldn't have considered. A year after the war with Thanos, well after things have settled, the U.N. calls a meeting requiring enhanced beings to gather together; not with the intent to help them co-exist, but to stop them. (No slash, no smut) (Companion piece to “Append”)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good time of day wherever you are! ;) Thank you for taking interest in this story! =) You're amazing!
> 
> Just so you know, you don't have to have read Append first to understand this (it would certainly help), but just know that Hela wasn't banished before the first Thor and Thor and Loki grew up with her as an older sister. Also, Wanda and Pietro aren't Avengers because Age of Ultron didn't happen, and during the fight with Thanos, Odin and Frigga were killed.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing!
> 
> Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors!
> 
> Pairings: Jane/Thor, Pepper/Tony
> 
> Rated for: Minor violence, PTSD, implied/referenced torture, panic attacks, possible gore (nothing extensive), and paranoia on my part. Any further needed warnings will be posted at the top of chapters. No smut, no slash, no non-con, no incest, nothing else inappropriate. Language is all K.
> 
> For your information, this story is cross-posted on Fanfiction.Net under the pen name of "LodestarJumper" 
> 
> Just a personal note, if you could refrain from using cussing/strong language if you comment (no offense to how you speak! Promise! =) It just makes me uncomfortable) I would greatly appreciate that. ;)

 

* * *

 

" _So you feel entitled to a sense of control,_

_And make decisions that you think are your own,_

_You are a stranger here, why have you come?"_

_-_ Who Are You Really, Mikky Ekko

* * *

_July 29th, 2019_

The sound of the slap is sharp, stinging and seems to swallow the silence in the room as if through a surprised inhale.

This does not deter him, and beyond the slight sting in his hand, he can't quite feel the burn as well as he should.

Perhaps he does not care to.

It does not bother him either way.

Instead, he leans forward on the desk, resting his palms flat against the metallic surface and stares at the man across from him. The black hair is slick with sweat and his eyes are shadowed heavily from the sleep deprivation he's been forced with. It has not torn the answers from him, the man's lips remain sealed as if sewn that way. The green is dulled, but fiery with defiance.

Given enough time, it, too, will be quenched.

They just need to wait.

And he has all the patience he needs.

"Do you suppose this to be a game?" The man questions the other, furrowing his brows. He keeps his fingers lax, despite his first instinct to clench them tightly into fists. Across the table, the raven-haired man tightly clenches his jaw, his tongue wiping at the blood present on his lips clean.

Prisoner XV says nothing.

And he expects nothing less.

Prisoner XV has said very little in the period of time they have held him; and though most men would have at least asked for at least water at his point (begged), Prisoner XV refuses to converse with them. It must be a struggle. These prisons are not built for comfort. Prisoner XV has been here for days, and yet, still nothing.

He is determined to get the dehydrated, exhausted man to spit and whether it will be by force or other methods,  _that_  is simply up to the man across from him.

He sighs with disappointment and takes the seat on the other side of the desk. Prisoner XV's green eyes follow him, but the expression in them is hard to determine. Perhaps annoyance, vague wariness? No, that's not it. Exhaustion? Yes, exhaustion would be the label he firmly presses into it. Prisoner XV is tired. It's held in his stance, his gaze and the way his hands are lax against the restraints they're bound in. His wrists are lifted towards the ceiling from shackles hanging from them, and his shoulders must be screaming at him. Yet still, Prisoner XV says nothing. Curious.

"This needn't get unpleasant Mr. Odinson." He assures and gives a thin smile to back up his words.

_Establish trust. Find a common ground._

Prisoner XV rocks his hands slightly, palms twisting to ease the tension of his wrists. It, as he and the prisoner are aware, does not ease the burden. He still is silent, watching. His stare is unpleasant and gives off the impression that the Asgardian can see everything about him as if it were presented on the table like cards, and what Prisoner XV does gather, he is not impressed with.

This is not working. He is losing.

Alright.

Time to change tactics.

He leans back in the chair and releases a slight breath, "Perhaps we've been going about this all wrong, Mr. Odinson. You need more incentive—what's in this for you? Yes. I can see that. We only want the location of where you sent them and then you can leave. You can just walk away from all of this. Just the location. Nothing more."

Still nothing.

Yes.

Alright.

"No then?" His patience is slipping, his superiors are counting on him to find this, "Life hangs between your hands, I'll have you recall, Mr. Odinson. Where  _are_  they?"

Prisoner XV's eyes narrow minutely before he leans forward slightly, his sharp chin jutting out defiantly. He wets his lips, though his voice is hoarse when he speaks: "Take it from my corpse, Agent."

"Ooh," The man murmurs under his breath and tilts his head towards Prisoner XV, "are you certain that you want to be making that offer? We are more than capable of doing so."

Prisoner XV stares at him for a second, green eyes dulled before he opens his mouth to respond. He feels more than accomplished than he cares to admit that he's managed to get Prisoner XV to  _continue_ to speak. Prisoner XV shifts forward, the chains creaking against the weight of his adjusted position. His face is blank, but his voice holds a promise through his venom. "There is  _nothing_  you or your organization can do to compel me into speaking the location,  _Agent._ "

He smirks. "Well, Prince Loki, I wouldn't say that, we'll find something. We always do. We're going to find New Asgard, and whether or not you tell us where it went is going to determine how much mercy they get. Tell me, how much more death do you want to be responsible for?"

000o000

_July 7th, 2019_

The water is sloshing around her boots, soaking the bottom of her dark skirt and freezing her toes. It's bitter, but she can't say she cares much for it. As far as she is concerned, her toes may gather frostbite.

In her long existence, Hela can't remember a time where she has had to guide this before. She has never had a  _reason_  to; and she is beginning to understand that it was a mercy. Her chest is compressed, but empty. Her entire being aches in a way that she doesn't think she will ever fully understand.

Hela releases a breath through her nose, trying to gather herself, and tips her head down to stare at the wad of paper present in her fingers. It's white, pristine and looks undamaged save the thin rip on the first letter of the sixteen present. They're bound together with leather that's tied into a thin knot on the top.

She presses her lips together and leans forward to rest the final stack into the ship among the dozens of other pieces of paper. Drawings, notes—no part of the wood is bare, and she supposes she can draw comfort from this fact. But it doesn't change what happened. It doesn't make her parents any less dead than they were at the start of this month. It doesn't make the feeling of half her family being torn from them. Brutally.

Hela releases the leather and backs up from the water to the sand, stopping when she reaches where her siblings stand and looks up around them. The beach is covered with people, as expected. They dot from one side of the coast to the other, faces shrouded with open grief that she doubts looks different from her own. Children stand huddled next to their parents, siblings grouped together and others share their grief openly.

She envies them.

She is not allowed to show such instability.

She bites at her tongue heavily to ground herself and looks up towards Thor. Her brother meets her gaze with his own and wordlessly hands her the bow and arrow. Her lips are thinned tightly, to the point it's nearly painful, but she forces herself to ignore the sensation, briefly catching Jane's, from her position next to Thor, eye. The astrophysicist moves to take Thor's hand once more as soon as his fingers are free from the wood and she briefly sees Thor tighten the grip.

Hela turns.

Loki meets her eyes with a grimace and lifts up his right hand, fire dancing dully between his fingers. He takes a step forward and dips his hands into the small bowl of oil resting in the sand. As it's lit, Hela sees others dot among the beach, gathering more light than the bottled stars held into many hands. Nearly everyone holds one, a way to remember what was lost.

With a slight dip of her head towards General Tyr, the ships are shoved from off of the harbor, pushed towards the horizon; carried by the waves gently.

Hela eases her teeth's death grip and notes distantly that the inside of her cheek is bleeding, but wets her lips and forces the words from her lips: "Towards the sky, so do I see my father. Look to the horizon, for there do I see my mother, my sisters and my brothers. To the earth, there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning. So do they call me. They bid me take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla; where the brave shall live forever."

She dips the arrow into the burning oil and watches the head light immediately. The fire cackles in her ears and casts a glow onto the white sand. She exhales through her teeth before drawing the weapon up and pulling the drawstring back to her face. The boat for her parents is marked with thin gold inklings, but it's nearly impossible to make out in the dark. After a moment, she locates it among the others and releases the arrow.

It sails through the air for a few seconds before landing on the wood quietly. The boat begins to burn and Hela lowers the bow, moving to take her position beside Loki and Thor.

Other arrows follow her's, landing among the other boats and setting the horizon aflame. The bottled stars follow the arrows, lifting towards the sky to take their places among the galaxy. It's impossible to see through the thick musk of the sky reminding her almost tauntingly that this is not Asgard, even as much as she tries to pretend otherwise.

She blows a breath out through her teeth and turns her head slightly when Loki's hand rests on her shoulder. His expression is lifted with inquiry and sympathy and she gives a weak smile in response, resting her hand on his upper back for comfort then grab Thor's other hand between a tight grip as they turn to watch the burning ships together.

One year, three months and two days and they have finally sent their dead off in peace.

She can hardly believe that it has been such a long, but short time, since Thanos's attack on Asgard.

Since their Realm's destruction.

Their rebirth.

The ships sail slowly to the horizon. Once they have departed beyond what they can see, Hela slips from Loki and Thor's grip and moves to bury the oil with sand. Loki shifts forward to assist her, and Thor is not far behind.

"Thank you." Hela says and meets her siblings gaze. Both give short nods.

"The hour grows late," Thor avers quietly, "I'm taking Jane back to the hotel she rented in the city, it isn't too far. I'll be back in about an hour." Hela chances a glance back to where Thor's betrothed is standing, talking quietly with the Avengers. It's well past sunset, but on Asgard funerals were always held beyond the twin sun's disappearance in the sky to represent new life when the light graces them in the morning again.

Most of the non-Asgardians invited had to rent from hotels. Asgard never really had need of such arrangements before, everyone who wasn't staying with family typically stayed as a guest in the palace. They didn't erect a palace when Resumption—New Asgard—was built-her request.

Hela nods to Thor's comment. "Text me when you get there;" she requests, "drive safe."

"I will." He says and gives a tight smile then lightly gives Loki's shoulder a squeeze before scampering off to Jane again.

Hela blows out a slight breath and digs her fingers through the sand. She's going to have to find her phone before Thor gets to the hotel. At the moment, she has no idea where it is. Tony gave it to her as a gift eight—nine?—months ago. The technology is fairly simplistic to what Asgard's used to be, but there are parts that are completely ingenious. She, however, is not known for being very organized; she can lose pretty much anything given opportunity. Loki hates it.

Car keys are a nightmare.

She flicks her gaze to her youngest sibling. "Are you going to retire for the night?" She questions. His gaze is slightly distant and he nearly jolts at the sound of her voice.

He thins his lips and gives his head a slight shake. "No, I don't have any plans to at the moment. I can finish clean-up here if you want to go home."

Sleeping would be nice.

Alas.

Hela bites on her inner lip to stop herself from saying something stupid. Loki is watching her face carefully and she keeps herself composed with effort. All she really wants to do is find somewhere where no one will watch her so she can properly mourn the death of her stepmother and father. Her people. Thanos took so much from them.

"No," Hela disagrees, "I can handle it." She rises to her feet and brushes as much sand as she can from her skirt offering her hand to her brother. After a moment, he takes it and she pulls him to his feet. Loki's eyes are rimmed with exhaustion and his short hair is sticking every which way. Thor recently trimmed it for him after Loki chopped off most of Thor's per his request.

The clothing he's wearing is formal, but the helmet he started with is missing. This isn't Asgard, not anymore, but they tried to do what they could for the funeral to seem...wonted. Formal attire, the pyres, and releasing the stars—anything they could duplicate on Midgard. It's still not authentic.

"If it's all the same to you then, Heimdall offered to go over the star charts with me again." Loki's voice is quiet, but hopeful. She hesitates. He's grappling for an excuse to escape this situation and though she herself would be  _more_ than happy to, she can't tell if Loki's lying or not. He and Heimdall have been compiling a chart of Asgard's stars; what they had was lost on Asgard, but with Heimdall's gaze and Loki's vivid memory, they've made progress. If he really  _will_ go talk with Heimdall, she'd be happy to let him go, but isolation has always been one of Loki's (and Thor, though he'd never admit it) less healthy coping mechanisms.

Their mother used to worry over it.

Hela finds herself doing the same.

Loki's gaze is desperate and she feels herself crack. "I saw him near Madame Eir." She offers in answer. His shoulders slump with relief and he nods, slipping away from her side to promptly disappear in the crowd of Asgardians slowly moving back towards their homes.

General Tyr steps into pace with her. "The people are grateful for this." He says in way of greeting. She doesn't expect much less from him.

She meets his gaze. "I wish we could have done more."

 _They should have been able to burn bodies, possessions_ — _something. Instead they burned_ paper _._

"The letters were enough," he promises, pulling his helmet off of his head. Ragged curly hair slips down his back. "We have had time to adjust to this loss already. It is merely a way of closure."

Yes.

It  _has_ been more than a year now.

She nods, "All the same."

He gives an affirmative grunt. "Yes. This has heavily affected us, but we will move on, we will conquer. We always do. Asgard is not a place—"

"—it is a people." She finishes the mantra by habit. It's something that Thor blurted out at one of the curia regis—the elite council members of Asgard—meetings towards the beginning of Resumption's construction. It has stuck with them. She has seen it almost everywhere. Homes, shops, streets—it doesn't matter. It is a saying of hope, and there is nothing anyone can do to take it from them. They are a people, united once more through their losses.

Tyr gives a faint smile. "Yes. You did well, my Queen, thank you for this." Tyr's eldest son was lost in the battle against Thanos, his wife was nearly killed from infection afterwards, if not for Eir, they would have left letters for her as well. Letters to burn on their boats, because they had nothing else. There  _is_ nothing else from Asgard save themselves and their memories.

She gives a curt nod, trying to bite back her discomfort. She greatly wishes to hide among her pile of blankets and not move for several days. She is not given that opportunity. She has a country to run and just because she grieves doesn't mean she gets to stop.

Tyr gives her shoulder a friendly pat before leaving her company.

She wanders through the quickly dispersing crowd for a few more minutes, offering responses to those who speak with her, before she reaches where the Avengers and Stephen are standing, talking amongst themselves.

"Hey," Natasha says when Hela gets close enough to hear her. The redhead's lips are pursed with sympathy and Hela bites back frustration at it. She doesn't want the ex-assassins  _pity._

"Thank you for coming." Her words are curt, but she doesn't really care to stop it.

"Yeah," Steve assures and rests a hand on her shoulder. She shifts uncomfortably under the grip. His mouth parts and Hela can nearly hear the stream of assurances about to pour out that everything will be fine. It will, yes, but not right now and she doesn't exactly want to be told so. She wiggles from his grip, stopping the speech before it can break air.

"Are you staying the night?" She questions them. She shifts on her feet discontent, but does her best to hide it. Over the last year or so she has grown closer to the team of misfits, but she never quite...clicked like Thor. Their acquaintance has grown from formal, at least, but Hela has never really had any talent for making friends. Or having them.

Steve shakes his head, then says despite this: "No, we can get back to the Tower in about two hours."

At her quizzical expression, Bruce appends: "We took a Quinjet."

Ah.

"We offered for Jane, but..." Steve shrugs, "she wanted to stay for a few days."

Yes, Thor told her.

Hela nods. Good. That's good. Yeah. Norns, she needs to get some sleep. Her head feels fuzzy and she has to keep righting her position when she leans without her consent...Maybe she'll grab some food as well. When  _was_  the last time she ate? When was the last time  _anyone_ in her family ate? They typically try to have one meal together a day, but since the funeral was coming up she's hardly seen either of them.

"Wow," Tony says suddenly, drawing her from her thoughts, "okay, yeah, I thought that Frostbite and One-Eyed were exaggerating about the helmet-thingy." His hands lift next to his head to mimic something, "It was hard to see in the dark from far away, but um. Okay."

What?

Hela lifts her hand to her helmet almost subconsciously, feeling the threads of the familiar black spider legs. She doesn't wear it as often anymore, just for formal occasions like this or when it is expected of her. She'd almost forgotten she  _was_ wearing it to be honest, the weight is familiar and comfortable to the point that she ignored it.

Pepper smacks her husbands arm. " _Tony."_ She chides.

Tony rubs the spot and looks at her, "What? Tell me you weren't thinking it."

"I'm not going to  _say_ anything—I can't believe you said that right now." She hisses.

"What's wrong with right now?" He looks flabbergasted.

"Tony." Pepper draws out a breath, resting a hand on her large stomach where their child is growing and shakes her head with annoyance. " _Timing."_

Tony pauses, then makes an "o" shape with his mouth, turning back to her and shrugs helplessly. "Oops. Sorry?"

Hela stares at him for another second before a smile spreads up her lips for the first time in what must be days and she lets out a laugh. She shakes her head with fondness then lightly punches Tony's arm. "You're hopeless."

"I know." Tony admits and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, but she can see him trying to hide a smile.

Hela smirks lightly and turns back to the rest of the Avengers. "I have things I must attend to—" she needs to find her mobile. The last place she can remember using it is in her office at the Great Hall, the gathering place for the curia regis. It's what has become of the throne room of Asgard, but is now a also an adjoined building. "—but I wish you safe travels."

They give nods or sounds of the affirmative. The team begins to move up the path towards the city, but Tony pauses and looks back at her, "Just so you know, Natasha speeds. It doesn't matter what vehicle she's in. We can get here pretty quickly." Tony looks exasperated for a second, then rolls his eyes at himself, "What I'm  _trying_ to say is that if you need us, we'll be here."

She nods, burying a rouse of sentiment for the company. Those idiots.

Tony nods awkwardly and lightly pats her arm with hesitation, "Yeah, um. I gotta go kick Peter's butt—he's grounded again, teenagers, I swear—so wish me luck with my parenting endeavors." Tony shakes his head with fondness and Hela nods quietly, watching him scamper off towards his wife and team. She's never had the opportunity to become a mother, though it's always privately been a longing of her's.

Peter Parker is Pepper and Tony's adopted teenage son. His parents died when he was very young and he was taken in by his aunt and uncle until his uncle died in brutal robbery and his aunt was later killed in a car crash. Tony found him homeless and helped him get on his feet before he and Pepper adopted him some months later. At the moment, it's been roughly five months since everything was finalized. Although Tony hasn't said anything, she's  _also_ aware of his adopted sons' double life as Spider-Man.

Very few things escape Heimdall's gaze when he's looking.

Mobile.

She needs to get the mobile.

Hela draws her crown back and feels her hair tumble down her back before she draws her cloak around her shoulders and tugs the hood over her head. Now she looks like nothing more but the other mourning Asgardians, and it is a relief. Being queen is exhausting on it's best days and tear-inducing on others.

She is much better than she was when she picked up the crown from her father nearly a century ago, but she still feels like a young kit just learning how to stand. Awkward. Unsteady.

Hela releases a deep breath through her nose and moves forward through the streets, keeping her head low. No one pays her a second glance, and she is relieved. She does not have a desire to be queen at the moment.

After quickly passing through the Main Square and slipping pasts the empty shops, she reaches the Great Hall. It's perched at the end of the Main Square and a spiraling building of two stories. Sorcery is the only way they've managed to capture the building styles Asgard used to have, and she's grateful for it.

The building is dark and frankly she isn't expecting much more than that.

She shoves a set of keys into the lock and twists it pushing the door open. A warmer draft immediately greets her and she releases a breath in relief. She's never been one for cold weather. Office. She's looking for the mobile. Thor has probably texted her that he's made it by now. It's been nearly forty minutes since he left.

Hela presses her lips together and moves through the halls then climbs one of the flight of stairs leading to the second level, quickly working through the empty space until she reaches the door to her office. She shoves another of the many keys into the lock and pushes the door open.

Electricity is something they mastered well before her birth, but  _how_ they use it was always different than Midgard. She flicks on the light for the room. There's a desk in the center with a couch shoved towards the side—that Loki or Thor will usually crash on at least once a month—and a bookshelf with hastily written texts from surviving scholars as well as volumes from Midgard.

Mobile.

Hela forces herself to focus and takes the steps needed to reach the desk, shaking off her hood as she begins to dig through the papers. She spots the familiar black device and breathes a sigh of relief picking it up before she stills.

_Someone else is in the room._

She was too distracted earlier to recognize what the humming meant, but now she can place it easily. Their life is steady. Depending their intent, it probably won't be for long.

Hela summons a dagger into her sleeve and turns throwing the weapon in a wide ark, letting her gaze fall towards the intruder as her body braces for attack. The weapon lands with a sharp  _thunk_ in the wall next to the intruder's head.

Director Fury meets her stare calmly from his position on a chair pulled into the room for political discussions. His weight is evenly dispersed on his feet and he looks relaxed save the slight tightness around his eyes. Almost as if he was expecting her to nearly take his head off. Norns,  _this organization._

Hela swears under her breath and moves forward to grab the dagger. "What on the  _Norns_ name are you doing in here?" She demands sharply, pulling the weapon from the wall and backs up spinning it between her fingers.

"The door was unlocked." Director Fury says simply.

No, it wasn't.

Hela raises an eyebrow with disbelief. "Yes, I'm certain. You broke into a public building, Director; I may not be fully yet accustomed to your politics, but that seems quite illegal."

"It is." Director Fury agrees, shifting forwards. "I wanted to speak with you, Your Majesty."

"I have a phone," she says irritably, "call me."

"Forgive me for being skeptical, but it doesn't seem to be the fastest way to reach you." The director points out and Hela bites at her tongue with embarrassment. No, probably not.

Her shoulders slump.

"Alright," she agrees evenly, "what is it that you wanted to speak over, Nicholas?"

Director Fury rises to his feet and takes several steps forward until they're about three feet apart and digs a hand through his coat to where a pocket rests, tugging a wad of paper out. A very thick letter, she realizes after a second. "It's from the U.N.." Director Fury says as she pulls it from his grip.

She meets his gaze, wary.

"You haven't done anything wrong," he reassures, "but this is mandatory. I would have gotten this out to you sooner if I'd known what was happening."

Hela rests the dagger on the desk and leans against the wood, folding her arms across her chest, "What's in the letter that warranted this visit?"

Director Fury hesitates, "I'm not under obligation to say, and to be frank with you, I don't know much. Only enough. You should prepare for a trip overseas, more details are in that." He points to the letter, "Word of advice: don't try to fight this."

Hela arches her eyebrow up further, but can't help the cold coil of dread slowly curling into her stomach. "I'll bare that in mind, Director."

Director Fury nods and turns to exit, but pauses looking back at her. "Give my condolences to your brothers. I'm sorry for your loss, Your Majesty." He says softly. Hela nods once and Director Fury exits the room disappearing down the hall. She doesn't hear the door open and assumes he left the way he came in.

She shakes her head slightly and sighs under her breath, lifting up the letter. After a second, she breaks the seal and opens the flap taking the thick wad of papers out from within. She thins her lips and rests the envelope on the desk, unfolding the papers.

The first page is a formal invitation, but reading between the lines she can see the obvious demands, to a gathered meeting in New York City. The U.N. wants to discuss  _something,_ but the subject is void from the letter despite how many times she reads and re-reads it. The second page is an invitation for Thor, and the third for Loki.

Hela bites her irritation at this. She has little desire to be dragged into a meeting that she has no background on, but has even  _less_  to tug her siblings along with her. This also means that she will have to place regency on the curia regis. Typically, despite his official position as High Commander, Hela would give it to Thor, but since he's  _also_ being pulled along with her, she can't.

She sets the invitations next to the envelope before flicking through the remaining papers. One has directions, means of travel—as if she  _hasn't_ been living on Midgard for more than a year, she knows what a plane is, thank you; she did  _live_ with Tony Stark for four months—and number to call in case assistance is needed.

Another has information for hotel rooms in the city, rented for a week, starting on Friday, four days from now. How long do they expect them to  _be_ there? Hela would think a  _meeting_ would take a little less than six hours at the  _most,_ what do they plan on doing? What do they so desperately need to  _talk_ about?

Director Fury's insistence that this is "mandatory" is suddenly stark.

Hela bites out a breath and rests the remaining papers next to their brethren and buries her palms into her eyes. She can't say no to this. This isn't Asgard. Rules run differently here. She doesn't want to deal with this. Not at the moment, perhaps ever. Just  _no._

After a second, she gathers herself as much as she can and digs her hands through her skirt, grabbing her mobile from her pocket, flicking the screen. There's a few notifications from various apps, but she opens the texting to read through Thor's:

_Made it to the hotel._

And about ten minutes later:

_On my way home._

That was roughly twenty minutes ago, which means that he still has little distance to drive before he makes it back to Resumption. Hela flicks her gaze to the clock on the side of the screen. One ten. It's getting late, but not to the point that she's tired yet. She's always been more of a night owl than an early riser. Given a choice, she typically wouldn't move until ten or noon. Neither Thor or Loki carry the same trait.

Hela glances back at the desk and plays with her fingers for a second before turning off the phone and taking a seat beginning to shuffle through some paperwork. She can either remain awake staring up at the ceiling as she attempts to bury the ache in her chest or she can immerse herself into this and ignore sleep and the pain altogether.

Hela picks up a pen and turns on the desk light beginning to dig through the heavier documents she's been putting off for weeks.

000o000

By the time she returns to her, Thor, and Loki's shared house, it's well past four in the morning. Her limbs feel strangely dry and her eyes raw and painful. Thor's car is parked in front and Hela takes some relief at the sight.

She's very tired.

Staying up was perhaps not her greatest idea.

Hela twists the key into the lock, making sure that the papers she took home are still gathered together in the folder, before she shoves the door open. It's silent as it does so and Hela immediately spots a light on in the distance. A quiet curse escapes her lips of its own accord. She swears, if one of her siblings is awake now…

She closes the door quietly and longs for the moment she can get out of the formal attire. She's never been one for dresses. She silently treads past the small sitting room and into the kitchen. The light is beyond this room to the living room where two couches are present. Their home is mostly kept in order by Loki's annoyance with messes, but the space has become a community disaster. Books, papers, Thor's artwork in progress, Loki's spells, her weapons in the middle of craft—their present on the shelves in the room and across the coffee table. The floor, by way of unspoken agreement, is devoid of the projects.

On Asgard, their family's chambers was joined by a large open room like this and it, too, was one of the messiest parts of the castle because no servants were permitted inside. It's habit and something almost normal.

Hela rests the folder on the table and silently rests her keys beside them before she slips across the room to the sitting room, a retort on her tongue for who of her siblings is present, but stops.

Her voice dies before it can air and her gaze softens.

The coffee table is shoved up against the fireplace and the space it usually rests is occupied by Thor and Loki. Loki is resting on his stomach, head buried on his folded arms. Thor's head is resting on Loki's back, using the space like a pillow, and the rest of him is sprawled out across the floor and tucked next to Loki. Both of them have blankets that are twisted around their limbs awkwardly, but it's clear from the relaxed expressions on their faces the discomfort of their positions doesn't bother them.

They're out of their formal propaganda and she's assuming that they've been here for a while.

They used to share a bed when they were very young and as they've gotten older they draw comfort from occasionally doing this. Hela shakes her head with slight exasperation and releases a breath deciding to leave them there. She adjusts the blankets over their bare feet then backs up to turn off the lamp one of the two left on.

The room is immediately bathed in darkness and she waits a second for her eyes to adjust before moving from the room to slip down the hall and open the door to her room. After a few minutes of struggling, she manages to get the dress off without damaging it (she's not above cutting her way out) and is more than happy when she slips into a loose T-shirt and pants.

Tomorrow she will deal with the mess that Director Fury brought, she'll scrap together what remains of control and reign Resumption into some sort of order. But now?

Now she is going to sleep.

Hela gratefully crawls into bed after ponytailing her hair; asleep before her head hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear feedback if you're willing and comfortable to offer it! =)
> 
> On a completely unrelated note, has anyone else edited more than 135K in less than a week? Because it is mind numbingly painful. Haha. XD Background: I re-wrote most of "Append" before I posted this. So. Yep. Anyway.
> 
> I got a lot of requests for Infinity War aftermath and I was like "haha! Sounds nice, but no", then I sat down one afternoon, and plotted out an entire story in less than an hour-which like never happens for me, it usually takes days, if not weeks. I'm rambling. Sorry about that.
> 
> Depending on how many people want to read this will determine the when the next update is. I've got a lot of projects running right now and life is kind of beating me up with a baseball bat, but I'll definitely have something out before the end of March. Fingers crossed. XD
> 
> You're all amazing, don't you dare forget that! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa! Blown away by the response! Thank you guys so much! Your favs/follows/bookmarks/reviews made my day! =D
> 
> Look who's not dead!? It is I! XD Sorry for the wait, guys, life is kind of crazy for me at the moment and I wrote most of this instead of sleeping. XD But I planned the entire story, now, too, so yep. :) *rambles tiredly*
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing!
> 
> Sorry for any grammar/spelling errors!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: None.

* * *

 

Hela is jerked into consciousness with the realization that something is poking at her foot and  _it shouldn't be._ Her fingers curl around a summoned weapon, metal cool against her skin, before she jerks into a sitting position, hair tumbling across her face and restricting her vision. It matters not as she brings her dagger up towards—

" _Norns."_ Hela hisses under her breath, drawing the weapon back before it slits his throat, "Loki, I swear—" she starts.

Loki flicks his hands up in surrender, but his lips are twitching with a smirk. "Please don't, I've made it a considerable length of time since anyone gutted me, and I'm rather proud of it."

She shakes her head with irritation and slams the weapon onto the bedside table, attempting to shake the sleep from her limbs. She tugs the free strands of black hair away from her face and pinches her lips together staring up at him with confusion. Why is he  _in_ here? Her siblings don't wake her up unless something drastic has happened.

Hela shifts her gaze to the window for a second, trying to gauge the time. Light is pouring in from the window, but it's not the faint light that early morning gives off, but a firmer and brighter light.

What  _time_ is it?

Late.

Very late.

_Norns._

She was supposed to meet the curia regis to go over something the remaining parliament brought up and then they would finalize the details. After that she and Heimdall were going to—Loki. Loki is in here and she still hasn't discovered why. He's dressed in a loose tunic with his hair hanging around his face, a quick glance at his bare feet assures her that he hasn't left house the yet.

She looks up at her brother, detangling her legs from the quilt and swings them over the edge of her bed. "Is something wrong?"

Loki lifts an eyebrow, "Not exactly. Thor made a late lunch and we opted to invite you."

" _Lunch?"_ She repeats, flabbergasted. "What  _time_ is it?"

"Fourteen twenty-three." Loki admits with a slight shrug.

Hela curses under her breath and scrambles to her feet, "Why didn't you get me up sooner? I've nearly missed  _everything._ The council is going to be furious, and that isn't something that I want to deal with today—"  _Really any day, they're so nitpicky._

Loki grabs her shoulder and holds her steady for a second, forcing her to turn at look at him. He's shaking his head slightly, but his lips are thinned with fond amusement. "Sister," he addresses calmly, "be at ease. Thor and I have taken care of the most pressing matters. We assumed that you needed the rest."

She did.

She'd hardly slept the last week before now.

Still.

Half the day is already over and her body is more than happy to continue with such a pattern of late-resting. She whacks his hand away and scrambles across her room in search of clothing that's clean and matches. As she's digging through her dresser, she pauses, then looks back at her youngest sibling, properly processing what he said.

"You dealt with  _everything?"_ She questions. There were  _piles._ She barely touched it last night in her office. She can't help the slight doubt that slips into her voice, but Loki doesn't seem bothered by it. Instead he rolls his eyes good naturedly.

"You really have such little faith in us." He sighs, then clicks his tongue. "I'll be sure to pass that on to Thor. Yes, we dealt with it all." He affirms, "Come eat something, you skipped dinner."

 _Ha._ It wasn't exactly a feast in the first place, so she feels no guilt over the manner. People were arriving for the ceremony and between her head and the anxious flit in her stomach, she couldn't think of keeping anything down.

Hela pulls out a dark brown shirt and sends him a scathing look, "So did  _you."_

His lips twitch before he shrugs, moving to exit the room, then pauses, "Fair point, yes, but  _I_ didn't sleep in until after noon."

Oh,  _hilarious._

"Get out." Hela demands, pointing towards the door. He grins and exits the room, closing the door behind him. Hela shakes her head with annoyance before she pulls out the remaining fresh clothing and swiftly changes out of her sleeping attire. She tugs her hair up into a ponytail and pauses next to the mirror in the semi-vanity, before she exits her bedroom and slips into the hall.

The smell of cooking eggs immediately greets her nose and Hela bites back a gag. She has nothing against the taste of eggs—enjoys them, really, but the smell is nothing short of fetid. She buries her heaving throat into her stomach and quickly makes her way into the kitchen.

Loki is sitting at the table, nursing a cup of tea slowly as Thor dishes out plates on the counter. As she enters, he looks up and gives a light dip of his head, "Good morn, Sister." He greets.

"Good morn, Thor," she responds, taking a seat across from Loki. She does a quick headcount, and catches Loki's gaze for a second when he looks up at her before Thor shuffles the food onto the table. He takes a position between Hela and Loki; she picks up the fork and glances towards the blond, "Where's Jane?"

Hela expected that with the time she was asleep that Thor would have visited her by now. Jane's eaten enough meals with them that it wouldn't be to odd for her to make an appearance. Didn't she say she was going to stay in Resumption for this purpose in the first place? For Thor? Where is she then?

Thor shrugs lightly, "She and I have exchanged texts, she's otherwise occupied."

Hela nods and quietly picks through the food on her plate, watching as Thor quickly downs his and Loki halfheartedly makes an attempt at eating his, but he seems distracted. "Was there anything that needs to be brought to my attention?"

Both look up at her.

"When you went digging through my private work, which, if I might add, I  _could_ reasonably behead you for." She smiles. The penalty for digging through the king's work without permission was worse on Asgard, and nothing Hela was to keen on, but she performed many of the brutal executions before their father met Frigga.

"When you find yourself a King's Executioner, we'll make sure to be available." Thor promises, rolling his eyes slightly.

"No," Loki interrupts before Hela can push Thor further into the banter, "we didn't find anything. Unless you want to hear about the thirty page document that someone sent petitioning the fact that Asgard has lost its native grammar; it's exhilarating."

_Truly?_

She lifts an eyebrow and glances at Thor whose expression looks pained. "No, I don't think she needs to read that."

"I didn't need to either," Loki says, taking a sip from the tea, "but yet, here we are."

Hela shakes her head slightly and blows out a breath between her teeth, glancing towards the countertop. They're sitting on the counter, still strewn among other papers. They haven't moved since last night, which means that neither Loki or Thor have seen them.

And she needs to explain about them.

They  _are_ leaving in two days.

At least, according to the letters.

A week. What on the  _Nine_ do they want to talk about for a  _week?_

Hela shoves the plate towards the center of the table and folds her arms across her chest, "We need to talk." She avers, tilting her head forward.

Her younger brothers turn to look at her. Both are quiet, expectant.

Hela forces herself to keep her face blank as she begins to explain: "Director Fury broke into my office last night—he expressed his condolences about our losses, but it wasn't why he was there." She admits. Loki and Thor exchange a glance, but she can't quite read it; and that's fine.

She rises to her feet and moves to the counter, flicking through the papers before she arrives at the letters and walks back to the table throwing them in front of Thor, where he, too, has shifted the previous position of his plate. Hela rests a hand on her hip, "He wanted to give me these."

Thor hesitantly reaches a hand out to the thick envelope and Loki slips to his feet, moving to read over the blond's shoulder. Thor rapidly moves through the papers, his eyebrows meeting and his expression thinning the further he goes. Loki's face remains impassive save the slight twitching of his eyebrows somewhere in the middle.

Thor looks up at her when they've finished tearing through the papers, "'You are to arrive'," he quotes, "'You're rooms are located', 'preparations have been made'," he rests the letter on the table, and bites on his lip for a second, "this isn't by choice, is it?"

Hela gives a slight shake of her head, crossing her hands across her chest. "No, I think not." Mandatory. And for  _what?_

Loki sits back, "What could they  _possibly_ want to discuss with all of us for a  _week?"_

It is her same question.

Hela shakes her head, "That is why I'm hesitant:  _I don't know."_

Thor frowns, running a hand through his hair in agitation, "Did Fury leave you with any other information?" Beyond not to try and fight it, no, he didn't. He was vague and unassuming, as always.

Hela thins her lips and gives her head another shake, "No. Just that."

Loki sighs between his teeth. "Great."

Not really, no.

"I'm going to call Steve," Hela says, flicking her gaze around the kitchen helpless when she realizes she doesn't know where her mobile went, yet again. She forces herself to remain calm as she adds: "I'll see if the Avengers know anything about this. For now, though, I need to discuss arrangements with Heimdall about who will be acting regent." Asgard hasn't had to be ruled by regency that isn't from the royal family since she was a child and the outbreak of Frozen Bite had just struck the capital. It's been more than two millennia. If it was just for a few hours, or even two or three days, she wouldn't bother. But this is a  _week._

What could the U.N. possibly want to discuss?

Have they angered them somehow? They are perfectly legal here—at least, as far as she still  _believes._ Gah! She hates this! Although it has been a year, she is still not used to working around another government. Asgard was at the head of the Nine before it fell, they never had to ask anyone for permission about anything. And that was a problem.

They bathed cities in tears and blood because of it.

_Focus._

They have to tread where they  _breathe_  carefully lest something come after them with a pitchfork. It's frustrating. And inane.  _Look how the mighty have fallen. Asgard is not a place, Asgard is not a place, Asgard is not—_

Hela sighs between her teeth, "In any case," she addresses her siblings, "pack your bags, we're leaving for this…" she waves her hand, uncertain what word to strap to the frontal of this. After a moment, she settles on: "Gathering."

Thor blows out a breath, "I'll tell Jane, we had plans."

Hela's lip twists with sympathy and she awkwardly pats him on the back for comfort. "My apologies."

Loki flips Hela's phone out to her and she mentally releases a breath of relief as she takes it from him, biting at her tongue to quell her embarrassment. She nods her head, trying to feel firm when she's not, then flicks the screen on to contact Steve.

000o000

Hela ends up taking a picture of the letters and sends it to the Avengers through a group chat she and her siblings were wrangled into a few months ago with the headline, " _anyone else aware of this?"_ attached. She pockets her phone before tugging up her boots and leaving the house to find Heimdall. He's among the small handful of people that she trusts to not burn Resumption to the ground on accident during her absence, but the number is startlingly few.

She finds Heimdall nearly an hour later, talking over something with of the other council members, Lord Wyson. She's not certain what they're talking over, she is behind in her work (she used to go weeks without paperwork when she was younger, how she  _misses_ that). The Gatekeeper (there's no  _gate_ to keep anymore, Asgard is ashes) and the curia regis member turn to face her as she approaches.

Lord Wyson's face pinches slightly, and she's not surprised, having grown accustomed to such a reaction. She's uncertain what she did to make him so wary of her, but he  _is,_ and she hasn't done much to change it. People still fear her, they always have, and it's nothing new to her. Nothing that she  _can_ fix. The more terrifying you were a thousand years ago, the longer you survived.

"Your Majesty," Heimdall greets, dipping his head with a sign of respect and she returns it.

"Queen Hela," Lord Wyson says and clasps a hand over his heart, dipping his head.

"Lord Wyson." She says curtly, then turns to Heimdall, "I need to speak with you about a private matter, Gatekeeper, am I interrupting something?"

"No," Heimdall says when Lord Wyson opens his mouth to counter it, "please, Lord Wyson, we can continue this later. Hela," he gestures towards the hillside on their right and Hela slips into pace with the Gatekeeper, then they begin to walk down the hill together.

"What troubles you?" Heimdall asks.

Hela shakes her head, then blows out a breath, "My brothers and I have been called to New York. It's mandatory, the U.N. requested our presence for a week long meeting. Director Fury arrived last night to give me the invitations."

Heimdall's expression flickers, " _All_ of you?"

"Yes," she answers thinly, "I'm not any happier about it than you. Especially not now. Not after we finally sent off the ships."  _They waited more than a year for it. Hela wrote letters to her parents since last November._

Heimdall nods, then sighs quietly, "Such is the will of fate, however."

Hela snorts, "Indeed. I'm asking you to care for Resumption while Thor, Loki, and I deal with this. If all goes well, we'll be back by next week and we can carry on like usual. If not…"

Heimdall shakes his head, "It will be fine, I'm certain."

"Still," Hela presses.

Heimdall hesitates, then sighs and dips his head, "I would be honored, Your Majesty."

"Thank you."

Hela's pocket buzzes multiple times and she thins her lips, digging through her coat to find the mobile, "I contacted the Avengers about this," she explains at Heimdall's curious gaze. "I wanted to see if they knew about the meeting, the letter mentioned they'd be there. Along with Stephan." She finds the phone and victoriously tugs it from her pocket, flipping open the screen to read the responses:

_Nope. Not till this morning, we were emailed. I feel bummed we didn't get real paper. -TS_

_No, nothing. It's mandatory, though, so I guess we'll be seeing you. -SR_

_im excited. -CB_

_No, you're not, Clint. We all heard your querulous .-NR_

_I didn't know, I don't know what they want. Do you have any ideas? (Also, Clint *I'm)-BB_

_Grammar is for nerds. -CB_

_...-TS_

Hela quietly releases a breath of amusement, wonders for the umpteenth time how they  _live_ together without killing each other, then fires off a response:  _No. I don't know why. Friday then?-H_  The Avengers respond with the affirmative and she pockets the device, turning to look at Heimdall.

"I should start preparing." She admits with a slight slump. Packing.  _Joy._ She  _adores_ packing.

Heimdall stares at her with a curious look for a second, then she sees the barest tightening of his fists. "I do not feel comfortable with this." He admits after a second.

_Neither does she. Does anyone?_

She rests a hand on his arm, a gesture she usually refrains from, then gives a smile that feels so stretched it's painful. Her attempts at comfort are inane at best. They always have been. She's never gotten better. "We will be fine, Heimdall." She assures.

They have to be. She doesn't know what she'll do if they aren't.  _Norns._ She hates this.

Heimdall blows out a slight breath and worries his lip between his teeth, "I foresee ill intentions."

Hela draws her hand back. Admittedly, she's trying her best to  _not_ think about motives. She is uncertain what to say, and instead presses her lips together and nods mutely. Silence gatherers between them for a long minute before she looks up at him, "Tell the curia regis of this."

"I will." He reassures, hesitates, then adds: "Good luck."

_They'll probably need it._

000o000

Hela, Thor, and Loki step off of the plane three days later. They're all exhausted, mildly cranky, and Hela's certain that Thor was going to hit the flight attendant, an obnoxious young woman, trying to flirt obnoxiously with him at least twice. She nearly did herself. The attendant walks away unscathed, probably not even aware how close she came to getting her nose bashed in. The plane was issued by the U.N., so the airport they've arrived in is private. One of the attendants assures them that they'll handle luggage and all but pushes them from the plane into the open hanger.

Hela blows out a breath between her teeth and breathes in the fresh New York air deeply. After nearly sixteen hours on a plane, she's more than happy to be resting on solid ground again, without the rocking rotations of something she's sure will give out any second. Asgard never really had such inventions, but she doubts she would have participated in them often if they had.

She's not one for tight spaces.

Neither, she has just realized, is Loki. Not anymore. He used to spend hours cramped into spaces so small it looked painful as he worked on one thing or another. His breathing never steadied while they were in the air, assuring her of his discomfort. She's not certain when this spawned, but she has a general idea and she realizes with a sickening jolt in her stomach that she wants to hunt down the remainder of the Chitauri and  _skin_ them.

Feel their pain beneath her fingertips.

But she's better than that now. ( _She's supposed to be better than that)._

As they step into the airport, Hela is immediately graced with the fact that it isn't very big for the amount of people they're trying to stuff into it. Most of them seem to be employees, but she spots a few familiar faces after looking for them. The Avengers are gathered as one unit off towards their left, with Stephan and Wong beside them. Off to her right is mutants she doesn't recognize, Director Fury with Ms. Hill, a sizable gathering of smaller heroes (Iron Fist and Nova to name a few, but not, she realizes after seeking him, Spider-Man), and in front of her is a small gathering from Wakanda.

As of the yet, she hasn't had the opportunity to interact with the recently opened country, but she's heard many stories from the Avengers. Particularly about how the princess, Shuri, and Peter's friendship is a disaster that ended up with some version of banana pizza that nearly burned the kitchen beyond repair. Both are awful cooks, turns out.

Hela gathers herself together, glances briefly at her siblings, then lifts her fingers to strain for her helmet. As the familiar weight settles on her head, she feels herself relax. It's familiar. It's comforting. She can hide behind the crown, like a hero does a mask. Loki and Thor have already switched into more formal attire, but they don't bother with their ceremonial helmets. Hela isn't surprised, thus far, since both reached adulthood, if they can escape it they will.

Hela moves forward, her brothers following after her as they begin to search for a director of some sort. Someone to tell them why they're here. Why they  _bothered_ to gather so many of them together. ( _It would be a clean place for slaughter)_.

The letter's were commands, and didn't bother to offer directions beyond arriving here.

A few minutes pass with them wandering aimlessly, attempting to reach a familiar face, but stepping away from the plane makes the entire room seem to be swallowed in the sheer mass of the crowd. Hela doesn't like it. It makes her stomach do weird twists of discomfort that she's never been able to quell in large crowds.

Surely it can't be this hard to find the Avengers, or a member of S.H.I.E.L.D..

Elusive they prove to be.

"Queen Hela!" Hela turns at the sound of the accented voice, her brothers doing the same. The Wakadian group has shifted towards him and she assumes that the man who called was their king, T'Challa. Over the last year Hela has heard a great deal about their family problems, which have been presented to the public. T'Chaka's untimely death by the hand of his nephew was only one casualty in the small civil war that broke out.

She commiserates the country for such private details being leaked.

"King T'Challa," Hela answers in turn, giving a thin smile when the Wakadian offers a hand out to her. She stares at it, then briefly considers what he would do if she refused to take it. Deciding on  _not_ seeing the outcome of the inevitable culture clashing, she grasps his cool palm with her own. His fingers draw back slightly, as if surprised by her bony hands and cold touch.  _Such a strange gesture of goodwill._

"I've not yet had the opportunity to visit your country, though I hear it's beautiful." T'challa says, releasing her hand as quickly as is polite, but it's still obvious she discomforted him.

"Mmm, I should hope so," Hela avers, her tone lacking adornment, "my people will be proud to be remembered by verdure and scenery."

The smile she gives him is sharp.

T'Challa's lips thin and she feels one of her siblings subtly kick the back of her heel. She has been given no reason to be nasty, she knows, but Asgard will not go down in history as a country that was crippled and resorted to farming to survive. She would have not her legacy to be such, and she wouldn't curse it upon anyone.

Hela forces her expression to lose edge, "Wakanda is as unknown to me as Asgard to you, don't fret."

T'Challa visibly relaxes, "Of course. I meant no offense."

"Yes, the same goes for me."Hela says, then tilts her head slightly to return the stare of the woman behind T'challa watching her with a burning gaze. She seemed friendly enough until Hela began to toy with T'Challa, but now her eyes hold the vague promise of murder and Hela is briefly curious how detailed her plan is. Bodyguards. The Einherjar served that purpose for Asgard's royalty, but since Resumption, she hasn't bothered to reenact it.

Anyone who tries to kill them has to deal with a living weapon, energy trapped in a living form, and a master sorcerer. Thus far, no one has been stupid enough to attempt it.

"Hello," Hela greets the woman, smiling tightly.

"Okoye," T'challa murmurs quietly, apparently noticing her murderous stare at last. He looks back at her and sighs, murmuring a few words in their native tongue. T'Challa returns his gaze to her, "Forgive her, it has been a tense few months."

Mmm. Yes. Two murders in the family tend to do that.

Hela gives a mirthless laugh, "Yes. I imagine so. My apologies for your loss, King T'Challa. This last year has taken much from us all, hasn't it?" She doesn't want to talk about this, nor share sob stories over spilled coffee and cookies. Norns, her social levels are low today. She leans back slightly, away from T'challa.

Apparently noticing her desire to stop talking with him, he turns to Loki and Thor giving a curt dip of his head, "Prince Loki, Prince Thor."

"Your Majesty." Thor says, dipping his head.

"King T'Challa." Loki answers in turn, "How do you fare?"

T'Challa stares at him for a second, then answers, "Well enough. You are well, I trust?"

They're going to sit here for minutes and trade awkward pleasantries for a great deal longer unless she can pull them out of this. Hela rests a hand on her youngest brother's shoulder and smiles apologetically at T'Challa. "I'm afraid we're otherwise occupied at the moment, perhaps we can continue this discussion later, Your Majesty?"

T'challa nods, "Of course. Sorry to intrude. Good day to you, Your Highness."

Hela gives a mute nod in response and quickly slips away from him, dragging her siblings with her. She blows out a breath and Thor lightly whacks her on her upper arm. "' _Remembered for verdure',"_ he quotes snippetly, "are you  _serious_?"

Hela shrugs, "What else were you expecting? I'm not nice, Thor."

Thor rolls his eyes up towards the ceiling in irritation and Hela quietly smirks bitterly to herself, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around her chest in a self-hug. ( _They're in public. She can't afford to look weak. Her father would have skinned her alive for it)._ She hates large crowds. She's being suffocated.

They wander for some time, with people slowly trickling out and going  _somewhere,_  but she can't find where. After nearly an hour since arriving, Steve and Natasha walk up to them. Anxiety on Steve's brow lessons as he spots them and he waves cheerfully, coming to a halt in front of them. "I'd thought you'd gotten lost." He says.

Thor shrugs, "We were seeing the sights."

"Absolutely," Loki agrees, his voice bare, "did you know there's no less than six coffee stains on the floor behind us?" He points a thumb in the direction they came from and Hela barely resists the urge to look back because no, she didn't know. She hadn't been paying enough attention.

Natasha rolls her eyes, "Funny." She assures the trickster.

Steve glances at her, before returning his gaze to them, "We're supposed to check in at the counter over there, did they not send that information in? They asked us to find you three." Steve says and Hela shares a quick look with her siblings. Both gazes are confused, assuring her that such information didn't escape her notice intentionally.

Hela shakes her head, "No. Where's the counter?"

Steve points towards the far edge of the room, "The meeting is in half an hour, probably less. There's a building off of the airport they want us to report to. This entire area is government owned property, including the hotels we've discovered." His eyebrows flicker at this, but the rest of his expression is a desperate dissemble.

Hela nods. "Right then, shall we?" She questions the other two.

Twenty minutes later, the three of them are standing in front of the counter. The woman at the desk with graying red hair looks up at them, eyes widening a fracture as she sees them. "Ah. Asgardians." Her accent is thick, but Hela isn't familiar enough with Midgard yet to pinpoint from where. Not the United States, however.

She shakes herself from her daze and shoves a piece of paper out towards them and says, in an annoyingly chirpy voice: "Sign your name here," she leans down to grab a briefcase and rests it onto the counter's surface. "All weapons must be confiscated for the sake of safety." She gives a sympathetic smile and Hela shares an awkward glance with Loki.

How on the  _Nine_ do they expect her to put  _hundreds_ of weapons into a small case? She doesn't store them on her person, nor in a physical place, not after Asgard. Loki taught her how to create a magical cache, and though it isn't the finest one crafted, it suits her purposes. She's not being  _disarmed,_ not when she doesn't know what this entire mess is about in the first place. It's not as though she can't make weapons from any material (she can, and has), but she'd rather save herself the trouble.

Loki, too, holds his weapons in a magical cache.

Well.

Looks like they'll be getting only a handful of their personal armories.

Hela blows out a breath between her thinned lips before moving forward to scrawl her name in thin runes, attempting to be difficult. English was something she mastered as a child, an older version, but the way the letters are looped has always been something that bothers her. Just use straight lines, it won't kill anyone.

Loki and Thor scribble their names onto the paper, Thor in similar runes to her's, but Loki's is in a tight, loopy scrawl.

The woman nods slightly, then pushes the container towards them her smile stretching slightly. Hela shoves back the worst of her annoyance, summons a sword and a dagger, then pretends to draw them from her cloak, resting them on the countertop. Thor places a handful of knives and Stormbreaker, then Loki sets two of his daggers beside their weapons.

The woman stares at them for a second, then lifts her gaze to Hela, "Miss, I'm afraid that any headdresses aren't permitted inside the building."

Hela levels her stare with her own, but after a few seconds complies. She resists the urge to roll her eyes as she tucks her helmet into a magical cache and her long braid tangles down her back from the tight french braid she wove it into this morning.

"Thank you."

The woman opens the case and quickly stores their weapons inside, tapping something out on the screen beside the handle, then opens a drawer and tugs out a container. She looks up at them, "Due to safety reasons and previous experience, the U.N. has requested that you wear these registry bracelets at all times. It will give us your location and it has a panic button," she lifts up the thick, ugly, gray cuff and points towards a small button on the left side, "hold it for ten seconds and we'll be alerted of your situation."

She gives another wide smile, but all it does is make Hela want to strangle her.

She gestures for their hands and Hela hesitates. Norns, she doesn't want to be attached to these people any more than she has to be, and this is far beyond what she'd imagined. If they're wearing the stupid cuffs, it means that her goals for her siblings and herself leaving before the day is up are a fantasy. They're staying for days, and for  _what_ she still doesn't know.

She gnaws on her inner lip before thrusting her hand out and waiting.

The woman smiles, wider still, then straps the bracelet around her wrist. It immediately begins to rub, and Hela feels the strangest sensation of thin needles digging into her skin, but it passes. Likely her imagination then. Or paranoia.

But still, Thor's face grows a shade paler as the cuff is strapped around his wrist and his fists clench tightly. Loki's fingers fidget with discomfort and the woman at the counter grimaces with sympathy, "Yes, sorry, they're a bit uncomfortable at first. You'll get used to them."

No, she won't.

Hela bites at the tip of her tongue to keep herself from saying something nasty, and rubs around the cuff lightly with her other hand, "Where is it that the U.N. wanted us to go from here?"

Smile. She's  _smiling_ again. Norns. No one can smile that wide and truly be jubilant. "Off to your right, there's a large meeting room in a building that's white with red trim. They have it labeled inside, if you need anymore help, just let someone over there know." She gives a slight dip of her head and her expression is one that's trying to be sympathetic to their apparent stupidity.

Hela releases her fingers with a wide flex, bites back a rude retort, then nods and offers a thin thanks and moves to exit the building, her siblings trailing behind her.

000o000

The room is large with a single wide window along the far wall. A lengthy "U" shaped table is set up with over fifty chairs present. Fifty seems like an impossibly small number for everyone she saw in the airport, but then she factors out the employees and escorts and fifty seems less enormous. Representatives will do that.

The Avengers, sans Steve and Natasha, are already present at the table with a handful of the mutants and lesser known heroes. Director Fury and Ms. Hill are sitting across from the Avengers and Hela spots the small pieces of paper with their names written a second later. Arranged seating. Swell. Thor nudges her arm and gestures towards their right and Hela trails after him as he guides towards the previously assigned spots.

Her siblings end up on either side and Hela tries not to fidget too obviously or rock back and forth in the spinning chair. Silence envelopes the room like a thick blanket and no one makes much of an effort to clear it.

Within the next ten minutes, the rest of the seats are filled, Natasha and Steve taking their places within the Avengers. After a time, Thor begins to awkwardly play with his feet and Loki flexes his fingers in and out.

Tony makes a loud popping noise with his lips and everyone shifts their gaze to him. He gives a thinned, embarrassed smile, "Sorry."

The action seems to ease the tension in the room, however, and Hela feels her shoulders relax.

Twenty-six minutes after entering the conference room, the door is thrown open and an old, graying man steps storms into it, followed by ten or so masked agents. Hela feels her eyes narrow with recognition and buries a noise of disgust.

General Thaddeus Ross.

Joy.

What a pleasure.

 _Who on the_ Nine  _put_ him in  _charge!?_

"Thank you all for gathering under such abrupt circumstances," General Ross addresses them, coming to a halt in front of the opening in the "U". "I have been asked by the U.N. to be in charge of these meetings. I know that many of you are curious as to why you've been summoned here today—" So they  _know_ that they were vague. It was on purpose. Even  _better._ "—which we'll answer within the next few minutes. As many of you are aware, Earth has undergone a dramatic realization that we're hilariously under-prepared for the world beyond our atmosphere, even within it. A single, small source of power nearly caused HYDRA to wipe us from the planet in the 1940's, a single man created an energy source strong enough to power a weaponized suit,  _one man_ nearly destroyed the United States' most powerful ground prison for enhanced individuals, and much more."

General Ross lets that hang.

Thor flicks his gaze to his feet.

"Do you have a point for this?" Director Fury questions, his voice bare.

General Ross snorts. "The  _point_ I'm trying to make, Director, is that in this room we have gathered the most powerful individuals on this planet, or representatives  _for_ them. Single-handedly, the lot of you could enslave us, and that's not acceptable. The people are afraid, Director, and the U.N. is trying to quell that; no one should live in fear." General Ross's jaw shifts slightly, a tic forming before he blows out a loud breath and lifts up a thick pamphlet, "This, the Accords, is the proposition we've arrived to; the  _only_ way to enact peace."

He tosses it at the table and it lands with a dull  _thump._

"You'll each be provided with a copy, you have an hour to read what you can. It's sectioned into specific categories for the people you represent. Start there. This is for peace, remember that. When you agree to the terms, you'll be asked to sign with the rest that you'll follow them. One hundred and seventy-three countries have already signed. Your hour begins now." General Ross says and waves the ten he brought with him forward.

They set copies on the table and Hela takes her's without a word, flicking it open and setting it open on the table. Loki and Thor ignore the two put in front of them, shifting forward to share her's. Hela stares at the English for a long second, mentally cursing that it's been some time since she read it in more than simple texts between the Avengers.

Business was conducted in Aardent on Asgard, and in Resumption it's mostly the same with Norwegian when it's needed. This is fine. Norns. Hela clenches her hands to keep her fingers from stiffening before she flips to the back, looking for an index.

The topics are voluminous, ranging from A to Z respectively with dozens between each category. Hela ignores them, searching for 'Asgard'. Page seventy six through another number Hela doesn't bother to memorize. She flicks through the thick book backwards until she finds the section she's searching for and Thor and Loki lean forward to read over her shoulder as she begins to study through the papers:

_Asgardian's are guests on Earth. This is a privilege, not a right, and it can be taken from them if the need arises—_

_Royalty will fall under the jurisdiction of the U.N., any major decisions will be consulted with—_

_(Also see under "Magic". Pg. 394-410) Due to the fact that Asgardian's are an unknown species everyone equivalent to the human age of twelve, or older, will be subjected to a medical analysis—_

_All children still in educational years will attend fifteen years of formal school in England—_

_Because they are guests, they will be admitted to wearing a tracker at all times so countries can be aware of their locations—_

_(Also see under "Magic". Pg. 394-410) Magically enhanced beings will work closely with scientists to reveal how it works, they will be subjected to a week of testing—_

_(Also see under "War". Pg. 536-542) The U.N. can call on Asgard for assistance with wars in any country the U.N. has need of them for—_

_If the U.N. has need of Asgard for their knowledge of space, they will offer what information they can—_

_Reconstruction of the Bifrost will be conducted immediately. Asgardian scholars will be consulted and—_

_Children born from this point will not receive permission to become a formal citizen of another country—_

_Marriage between humans and Asgardian's need permission from the U.N., or the local government. Anything that is not consulted with will be required to sign papers of divorce—_

_Royalty of Asgard will sign a formal document promising that they have no plans for world domination, should they attempt conquering this planet (or any other) Earth has permission to take deadly force to stop them—_

The list drags on.

It's lengthy, it's  _messy,_ and the further Hela reads the more she feels herself recoiling with disgust, an abstract  _horror,_ and silent fury. They are  _living, breathing, beings,_ not some sort of pet the U.N. gets to kick around then throw into the streets if it snarls back. Norns, some of these apply to  _children._

This isn't humane.

She can't agree to this.

She  _can't._

To do so would put her people, her siblings, and herself in a position a little better than favored slaves.

They've barely finished the section pertaining to Asgard as a whole and are working to the labeled "magic" segment when General Ross rises to his feet and clears his throat loudly. Hela lets her hands grow lax and the book slump against the tabletop.

"Agent Corvek," he addresses. A large man takes a step forward with thinning blond hair and a strong build. He sets a thin stack of papers on the edge of the table, near where T'Challa is sitting beside Okoye. "Who is prepared to sign?"

No one moves.

Hela is quietly vindicated.

General Ross stares across the table at them, expression thinning and rests his hands on his hips, "Need I remind you that this is for the greater good of—"

" _What?"_ Director Fury interrupts and flicks the book in his hands up slightly, "The greater good of  _what?_ S.H.I.E.L.D. is a covert organization, General, we can't agree to half of what you have listed in this," he waves the book.

General Ross tilts his head, "Need I remind you, Fury, that S.H.I.E.L.D. is funded by the U.N.? We can take that if you disagree to sign this."

Fury's jaw clenches, tightly, but Tony snorts loudly to their left. General Ross looks towards him, eyes thinned, "Do you have something to say, Stark?"

Tony gives a tight simper, "Right, sorry, it's just that by this point I fund a little more than twelve percent, closer to forty, so if they skimp out on the breakfast bagels I can probably keep them going pretty okay. But you know how they love their bagels." Tony makes a pained face a second later, for a brief moment, and Hela assumes that either Natasha, on Tony's left, or Bruce on his right, kicked him under the table.

General Ross gives a humorless huff. "Yes. Of course. And when  _you_ sign the Accords?"

Tony offers him a wolfish smile, "Won't be a problem, General, I'm not going to."

General Ross looks close to tearing at his hair. Hela's privately pleased by it. She's never been fond of him. Not after CARCER V. "Look," he stays his patience, "is this some sort of joke to all of you? We're fighting for  _peace_ between us and this," he slams a finger onto the Accords, "is the only way to go about doing it.  _All_ of you are going to sign before you leave today."

No.

She's quite positive she isn't. If she does, it won't just be  _her_ that suffers, but all of Asgard and she refuses to put them under the rules the Accords set up. She's queen now, she  _has_ to think about the future as a whole, not a distinct point that terrifies her.

"What if we don't?" Natasha counters, "What happens then?"

General Ross gives a grim scowl, "You get retired, or you go to prison."

_What on the-!?_

He blows out a breath and presses down on the Accords again, "This is for freedom—"

Hela flicks her wrist out, letting her remaining hold on the Accords snap and she lets out a mirthless laugh. General Ross turns to look at her and Hela tilts her head slightly. "I find it so strange how unequivocal you are to that idea. This is not a declaration of peace, General, it's a promise of war."

He chokes audibly and shakes his head. "What on the—"

"She's right," Steve pipes up, "you can't protect everyone else by putting us in chains. We  _protect_ _them._ We're not going to  _agree_ to be enslaved, Ross."

"This  _isn't_ enslavement!" General Ross argues, "It's a  _treaty."_

_Ha._

"I'm having troubles seeing where you hid that idea," Stephen says pointedly, "these are a joke."

"So much wasted paper." Tony remarks, clicking his tongue sadly.

General Ross's fists clench beside his sides, "They can be adjusted after you sign. Did you read the benefits you were given?"  _What benefits? "_ You'll get government protection, funding, and someone to see your side of the story to name a  _few._ We both benefit from this. Just— _sign."_

No one twitches.

General Ross blows out a breath through his agitated teeth. "Alright. This must be a lot to process and it's ridiculous to expect you to agree without thinking it over. We'll close for now and rejoin in the morning, alright? The hotels are prepared and they'll be someone there to direct you. Does  _anyone_ want to sign now? Avengers?"

Steve shakes his head.

"Dr. Pym and Dr. Van Dyne?" Hela tilts her head to where an older man and what she's assuming is his wife give a low shake of their heads as well.

"Dr. Strange?"

"No."

"King T'Challa?"

"Wakanda will not be signing at this date, no."

"S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"What do you think?"

"Asgard?"

Hela gives him a mirthless smile, "You can sign my name with the blood of my corpse," she promises and Ross calls on the other groups who give the negative. His face grows a shade redder at the continuous dissension, but he doesn't yell at anyone before he finishes. Instead, he blows out a heated breath, shakes his head and points towards the door.

"Meeting adjourned, go."

Hela rises to her feet and exits the room willingly.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when the next chapter will be out. I'll aim for mid-April, but my life is just an exuberant mess right now and my mental health has taken a swift kick downwards *grimaced smile*. Anyway, I'm sorry about that, I wish I could give you all a chapter a day. :) You're all amazing! Thank you again!
> 
> Until chapter three! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hear that distant screaming? Tis I, from afar! =D *Peace fingers* But I'm not dead! Yeah! Whoop! Sorry for the wait, my friends! Life has been a pain. :)
> 
> I actually have a kind of funny story to tell: so I was writing a different one-shot (Accidents That Save Lives) and someone walked past as I was looking over my plan and they were like, to my plan,: "This is hilarious!". I stared at them incredulously before I realized that in the plan I had had, without even thinking, Loki (in places where I had rough dialog) call Odin "my dude" like twice. *Embarrassed face palm*. The worst part is that that's pretty normal. So, yep. Apparently my plans are comedy gold. XD
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your support! I have really appreciated it. :) You're all amazing! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> WARNINGS: Arguments, PTSD, some injury, and a intense panic attack. :) Take care of yourself, my stars!

 

* * *

 

With surprising reign over his fury, he manages to make it until they're outside of the building before he kicks something. The rock goes sailing through the air, tumbling along the pavement before pattering to a stop noisily. But it isn't enough. Thor's muscles are coiled, and he wants to hit something else.

_Hit it hard enough to snap._

_Break._

_Crumble._

His headache pulses in the background dully as he growls out a breath between his teeth and inhales raggedly. By the  _Norns,_ what are they  _thinking?_ Asgard is not some sort of-of  _war horses_  they can call to when they have need of them. They aren't science projects, they are  _living, breathing, beings._ This is—

They shouldn't stand for such blatant disregard of the fact that the U.N. has essentially declared them void of rights. Yes, they are guests here, but not by  _choice._ They didn't go hopping up to the Mad Titan and  _ask_ him to destroy their home world and everything else that they know. It's stupid to even  _consider_ the fact that they would—how could they do this? What gives them the  _right?_

Thor would be more than happy to aid them in battle if they  _asked._

Not be obligated by law.

They are not soldiers, always ready to be drafted for war.

And what they want the  _children—_

Thor bites a this tongue to withhold his frustration from splattering across the open space violently, but his older sister has no such obligations. They make it a few feet from the building and Hela swears darkly, spitting out any cuss she knows in Aardent, then English, and when she begins to move onto French, Loki's hand slaps across her mouth.

" _Stop."_ He commands harshly, and Hela shoots him a scowl, pulling his hand away.

"You  _heard_ what they said in there!" She hisses, her voice low, "I cannot stand for this—" Loki gives her a pointed look before she cusses again and she releases a growl instead, fisting her hands by her sides. She looks ready to raze something to the ground and Thor can't say in honesty that he'd wouldn't help her.

" _Yes._ I'm not deaf." Loki promises with some bite. "But yelling isn't going to solve anything."

Hela's scowl darkens. "If this is some sort of cruel, sadistic joke—"

It's not.

It never is.

Jokes are supposed to be  _funny._ Thor can't find any humor in this. Norns, he's going to strangle something.

"Perhaps," Loki interrupts before she can further her ranting and rests a hand on her shoulder, though it looks tense, "it would be better to continue this discussion away from prying ears." He sends a pointed look to their left and Thor not-so-subtlety swings his head in that direction, then realizes that a handful of the mutants and smaller heroes from New York are staring at them, and more to the point,  _listening._

Thor can't quite bring himself to scowl, but he isn't happy at the revelation either.

Hela blows out a seething breath between her teeth, but seems to gather together some semblance of calm. "Where is the hotel supposed to be?"

000o000

Twenty minutes later, Thor closes the door behind Loki and Hela as they step into the hotel room. More accurately, Hela storms across it like she's out for blood and Loki quietly trails after her. The room isn't small, but compared to the guest rooms in Asgard, it's humble. Thor hasn't stepped foot in the palace in more than a year, but he can't stop  _looking_ for it everywhere.

It's ridiculous.

Stupid.

The space is separated into several rooms. The kitchen is on the immediate right with food already provided on the shelves, which Thor supposes is a good thing. In front of the kitchen is a small sitting room that opens to doorways on either end that Thor is guessing are the bedrooms and bathrooms adjoined to those. Their luggage is resting in the sitting room calmly, innocent of the warpath Hela is raging.

She slams one of the keycard onto the counter and shoves one of the suitcases to the side, throwing herself onto the couch, scowl set on her face. Her arms are folded across her chest and she heaves out a breath, refusing to look at either of them.

Thor doesn't press her, letting her seethe.

Loki, from his position beside the counter, sweeps his eyes across the room for a moment, then nudges Thor's arm silently. He jerks his head an infinitesimal amount towards their right and Thor follows his gaze to where he spots a small camera blinking. He probably would have missed it if he wasn't looking. Or hadn't lived with Jarvis.

He blows out a slow breath.

So they're to be watched, too, then?

Splendid.

Thor shares a look with his younger brother and Loki tilts his head back slightly as if asking, " _What should we do?"_ then glances towards Hela. Thor shakes his head, gripping his fingers into a fist as his vision blurs from pain. The headache has been persistent for nearly an hour now, and Thor wishes it would stop. Loki. He asked the question. No, the  _last_ thing that they should tell her is that at the moment. Thor is by no means  _cheerful_ himself, but a few minutes to gather himself between the meeting room and hotel have allowed him to  _calm._

Loki looks like he's chewing on his inner lip before he sighs quietly and flicks a hand out towards the camera, a stream of green light splitting out from his hands. It slams into the camera, jolting it slightly and Thor turns to him, question on his lips, but Loki is walking along the walls, hands pressed against them.

Hela shifts slightly, "What on the  _Nine_ are you doing?"

" _Looking for the audio_." Loki responds in Aardent, brow furrowed.

"Of  _what,_ pray tell _?"_ Hela demands.

Thor blows out a breath. Well. So much for  _that_ idea. " _Their eavesdropping devices,_ " Thor responds in Aardent, and Hela flicks her gaze to him again, then, if possible, her scowl darkens.

"Great." She mutters under her breath.

" _I already cancelled out their visual,_ " Loki assures in their native tongue, " _though I imagine there's a few more in the room. At the moment it's feeding them footage of an illusion I set up. Tony and I have been working on it for weeks_ ," Loki admits at their bewildered looks, " _he said that it could be helpful in missions._ "

Ah.

Loki's hands still and he presses his palm against the wall before the matter surrounding it folds inwards and Loki takes the small microphone set up and plucks it out, then turns to him. "Thor," He calls and tosses it. Thor catches it on instinct, rather than thought, and rubs his opposing hands fingers together, building up some friction.

Lightning dances between his fingertips and he shortages the microphone out. this way, the microphones look like they died from equipment failure, not purposeful harm.

His headache picks up the pace.

Loki nods slightly and blows out a breath, " _I'm going to find the rest of those."_  He announces, still in Aardent. Thor suspects that it will be the common tongue in the rooms even after Loki has removed what he can.

Hela nods stiffly and Thor rests the broken microphone on the counter as Loki rebuilds the wall with sorcery. After that, he exits the room to one of the bedrooms, leaving Hela and Thor alone. Thor lingers by the counter for a moment, then moves to sit down on the coffee table.

" _What are we going to do_?" He questions, then appends after a second: " _About the Accords?_ "

Hela runs a hand through her hair, " _I don't know. I can't agree to them, this is_ all  _of Asgard that I'm putting under their jurisdiction. Not just us. I can't submit them to it."_ She offers a smile, but it's bitter, " _Our father would have killed them for suggesting something so barbaric."_

Thor winces slightly, then blows out a breath between his teeth. " _Probably."_ He agrees. " _What do_ you _plan to do?"_

 _"I don't know. The Accords do not fall under q_ _uid pro quo."_ Hela's jaw tightens. She's quiet for a long moment before she starts to open her mouth to add, but stops when Loki's voice rings out behind them: "Thor."

Thor turns to face him, then flinches when the small, black device smacks against his face. His headache pulses uncomfortably. The device clatters against the ground and Thor mentally curses his missing eye for the umpteenth time as he leans down to pick it up from off the ugly carpet. Why do all public buildings have the same ugly style? It's always looks like a smoothie with grape-juice as a main base was spilled across a white canvas and feels about the same.

He quickly disables the device and looks up at his older sister, " _Do you think we'll get in trouble for destroying these?_ "

She shrugs, " _Most likely."_  She mutters something under her breath that Thor doesn't catch before rising to her feet and leaning forward to catch something between two fingers before it smacks against Thor's head. Thor twists and spots Loki shoot him a smile before vanishing into the other room. Hela drops the device into his fingers and blows out a long breath.

" _I'm going to take a shower, then sleep. Unless you are someone you know is dying don't bother me for the next several hours."_ She says and then grabs her luggage, moving towards the room the Loki exited from, tugging her hair tie out in a fluid movement. Thor hears her throw the luggage on a mattress, then the bathroom door close a few seconds later.

Thor blows out a quiet breath and tries to release the tension from between his shoulders, but finds he's not quite capable. He sighs and rises to his feet moving to find his brother. His headache quietly protests his movements.

Loki is in the other bedroom, attempting to remove the worst of the propaganda he's wearing, his back to Thor. The fact he's not using sorcery to change between outfits assures Thor that despite how lackadaisical he's been acting about this entire thing, he's trying to give his mind something else to think about.

Loki's spine stiffens slightly when Thor takes a step into the room, but then it eases and he chances a glance back at him. "I found all of them," he announces, "all that I could." He shrugs slightly, "If anything, I imagine they're going to be very confused by what feed they  _do_ gather."

Thor huffs and sighs quietly, moving to collapse on one of the two beds in the room. His muscles release with relief and a light moan escapes him. His head sighs with minor contentment. Loki's finger pokes at his foot and he jibes: "Your old age catching up with you?"

Thor waves a hand at the half hearted attempt to get a rise out of him, "Stop."

"Oh, my deep, sincere apology, I didn't realize you were getting sensitive in that area."

" _Loki."_

"I mean, honestly, you've already lost an eye, your back is bound to give out next. Then you'll  _truly_  be as useless as Mother's prized goblet."

Thor lifts his head up to scowl darkly at Loki for the low blow, then realizes that his younger brothers hands are shaking as he attempts to undo the clasp for his cape. His eyes are wild and frenzied and Thor props up on his elbows with concern. Loki always deals with stress when he's around people by getting more nasty. Sometimes Thor forgets this. "Loki?" He presses.

Loki's movements still and he rubs at the cuff wrapped around his wrist subconsciously as he worries his lip between his teeth. "I don't...I don't… _I..._ " He stumbles over his words for a moment, then his shoulders slump. "We're not leaving until we sign," he says softly, "General Ross will see to that. But how  _can_ we? I've already spent years as someone's slave, I'd rather not—" Loki cuts off abruptly and Thor pauses, pressing his teeth into his lip sharply.

Norns, he has no idea what to say.

Loki  _rarely_ talks about the time he spent in Thanos's captivity, and even less of what happened on Jotunheim. He never details, he only brings it up when he has to and Thor isn't sure what to think about it. He knows that people deal with trauma differently, and Loki has never been exempt from this rule. But he wishes he knew how to help. Bruce, after a rather awful incident in the Tower those first few months that none of them like to bring up, recommended that getting Loki to  _talk_ about it will help with the post traumatic stress disorder, as he called it, but if Loki doesn't want to speak about something,  _nothing_ can drag it from him. They're all like that.

They've been trained to be by their lifestyles. They grew up as royalty and war was a common threat, especially being taken captive for information. They were trained from birth how  _not_ to share important information. Loki has just perfected it.

Thor wets his lips, then clenches his fists, "Asgard will be fine, Loki," he reassures, "Hela won't let them do anything stupid."

Loki's gaze flicks to him, "And what if she  _can't?_ She's not invincible, brother, there is going to be a time when  _we can't win._ You saw the Accords. It's detailed. I suspect it's been in the works since Resumption was formed—they've been  _watching_ us for  _months_."

Thor's jaw tightens slightly with disgust.

_Months?_

Were they  _there_ when they sent off the ships?

The next words he says are more for himself than the younger, "We'll find some way to fix it. We always do."

Loki unclasps his cape at last and begins to fold it, thinking. He doesn't share his thoughts, instead, he looks up at Thor, "I suspect that some sleep would do us all good. I'll go get the luggage, seeming how you've made yourself comfortable." He exits before Thor can respond and Thor blows out a quiet breath of frustration, mentally cursing Ross for pulling his family, save Jane _thankfully Jane,_  into this mess.

000o000

Thor's not certain when he fell asleep (or if he really  _did—_ it may have just been the half-in and half-out dazed state that he oft finds himself dwindling in), but he knows when he awakens because it's to Loki shaking his shoulder. Thor blinks his eye open lazily, confused, and then looks up at him. He swallows thickly and resists the urge to scowl.

Loki is pale against the light source, the kitchen's overhead bulbs, and he's still dressed in the loose sweatpants and T-Shirt that Natasha gave him last year that he finds humorous. (It's black with white text reading on the front "I  _started_ an alien invasion on New York and survived, but all I got was this lousy T-Shirt" in white on the front. The back has Asgard's crest on it. Apparently Natasha had it specially made. Personally, Thor thinks that Loki is a little too attached to it). Loki draws his hands back, rubbing lowly at his right wrist.

His headache has not eased with sleep.

If anything, it's worse.

Thor can't quite keep all the irritation from his voice: "What?"

Loki's eyes are slightly drawn and Thor recognizes the signs of growing distress, which quells most of his frustration. "It's quiet." Loki admits with a slight shrug. His voice is a bare whisper despite what seems like an attempt to be nonchalant. Apparently realizing this, Loki adds a little louder: "And I'm hungry. And a terrible cook."

Liar.

Thor sighs heavily and rubs under his eye, "Is our sister awake?"

"No."

Thor nods and swings his feet over the edge of the bed, squinting towards the window. Light is barely present and Thor's pretty sure it's only artificial. What  _time_ is it? He glances towards the clock which reads nine-ten, and blows out a mental breath before calculating what the time  _actually_ is (twenty-one ten), and then rises to his feet. Loki backs away from the bed and Thor stretches his tense shoulders.

His vision blurs slightly and he barely represses a groan of pain.

It's just a headache.

It will pass.

_Breathe._

"How far did you get into cooking before you gave up?" He questions.

Loki shoots him an irritated glance and moves towards the kitchen where the light is present above the counter. "No where, Brother, I woke you up first." Loki corrects.

Ah.

Thor nods absentmindedly, and then rises to his feet, quietly longing for the warmth the bed provided and follows his brother into the other room. Loki plops down on one of the couches, rubbing at his registry cuff lightly. After a moment he thrusts his forearm over his eyes to block out the light from the light above them.

Thor presses his lips together and moves to open the cupboards. The food supply is basic, and not really anything Thor is terribly familiar with. Norway doesn't sell the same products as New York, and even when Thor and his siblings lived in Stark Tower, the food wasn't this...processed. Understand, any of the Avengers were happy with eating take-out, but otherwise they lived more plant-based.

That was the only option on Asgard, well—that or game. Thor had never even heard of peanuts until he lived on Earth.

Okay. He can do this.

His headache pulses sharply.

Thor looks at the stove and thins his lips. He doesn't know how that one functions and though he's pretty sure he could figure out how, he doesn't exactly want to be charged with burning down a public building.

"How do you feel about granola bars?" Thor questions, closing the cupboards and ignoring the fridge. The floor is cold, and his feet want to move away from it as fast as possible. He should have put on socks. Who sleeps without socks anyway?

Loki makes a noise in the back of his throat that could mean anything. And falls into the ranks of unhelpful.

Thor huffs and pulls out the package, peeling the glue apart and taking two of the six and throwing them at Loki's head. Loki catches them both without looking, and then sighs slightly and sits upright. Thor leaves two on the counter for when their sister inevitably joins them, then takes the remainder of the original six and sits next to Loki.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Thor questions. He's not an idiot. Loki is perfectly capable of ravaging for food by himself. The only reason he woke Thor up was for company.

He's not the only one who suffers from nightmares.

Loki's lips thin tightly. "No."

Thor nods with acceptance and takes a bite of the granola bar. "Ughph." Thor grumbles between bites, "Granola is moreish. Why is it so moreish?"

Loki huffs. "When you're so attached to Peanut Butter, you'll eat anything that has it."

Thor shrugs.

Point.

Eventually, the pangs of hunger overcome Thor's wariness of the gas stove and he attempts to cook scrambled eggs. Loki plops onto the counter cross legged and chops vegetables and a weird variety of other from the fridge for Thor to put in as both of them question the tile choices for the floor in an attempt to distract Loki from his dream.

They've nit-picked it down to the shape of the corners when Hela saunters into the room. Her hair is a mess, face pale from sleep, and she isn't wearing the formal propaganda she was earlier, but she looks a little less prepared for murder. "Are you  _cooking?"_ She demands, "At this hour?"

Thor and Loki share a look.

"Yes." Thor answers simply, "Are you hungry?"

Hela's jaw clenches slightly as she rolls her eyes, "Unbelievable."

"On Resumption it's twelve, and we didn't eat anything before going to bed despite the long flight. I think it's acceptable." Thor defends. Hela leans against the countertop, resting her hands on the granite surface.

"I never said it wasn't."

"Good," Loki cuts in, "would you like some, then?"

"I suppose." Hela agrees, though she looks reluctant.

Loki pushes the two granola bars they saved towards her with his foot, "Thor sacrificed the opportunity to have peanut butter for you."

" _Loki."_

Heat rises to his face, but Hela huffs with amusement, a gentle smirk twitching at the edges of her lips. "I'm touched." She picks through the wrappings and Thor returns to stirring the food around the pan.

When Thor has dished out the food and managed to turn off the stove without burning anything to the ground, he feels a small degree of success. His siblings pick through the meal quickly (Loki at last moving to the ground again), and Thor barely tastes it. His metabolism is hardly content on Midgard and it's aggravating to have to consume more food than before.

When they've all finished and cleaned what they can, Hela sighs and drops her head into her hands. "What time did they say they wanted to gather to discuss the Accords again?"

Thor glances towards Loki and frowns a little, trying to remember. General Ross mentioned "tomorrow", but Thor can't recall him giving a specific time.

"He said morning," Loki offers, "but I don't think he got more specific than that."

"Great." Hela grumbles, but Thor can't read her expression from the position. Her body language is radiating the stress, though. Loki rubs at his wrist lightly. Hela blows out a sharp breath: "Should we just accept? The hassle of getting  _around_ the Accords is going to be a mess, and we can't resort to declaring war on more than a hundred countries."

Thor worries his lip between his teeth. "...Yes, we can't. But sister, you  _read_ what they wanted Asgard to resort to, and we can't…" There is so much. A war, political ties, loss of—the Accords will  _destroy_ Asgardian culture. Assimilate them. The Accords are meant to protect Earth, but who is going to stand in defense of  _them?_

"I refuse to put our people under subjedicaiton." Loki says firmly.

"The solution to this isn't to find the easiest way out." Thor avers, rubbing at his forehead lightly.  _Stop it. Headaches are awful._

"I'm not  _looking_ for the easiest way out," Hela counters with some bite, "I'm  _looking_ for the one that draws the least blood."

"We don't know what will happen if we don't sign." Thor argues. "The only thing that Ross mentioned was retirement. How does he plan to "retire" and entire country?"

Hela shakes her head, "I don't know, but you know how they view us. We are  _guests_ here, Thor, they will take that from us if we don't agree to their rules. We have nowhere to go if that happens."

They'll be refugees, scavenging the galaxy for living like the Skrulls were for so many years. This is inane. And redundant. They manage to grasp some semblance of peace for a few weeks or years before it's torn from them again and again.

Thor sighs quietly. "This isn't hopeless. We'll find something."

"But  _what?"_ Hela questions, looking up at them. "Father left Asgard in  _my_ hands, but so far all I've managed to do is slaughter them."

"You ruled for many years before Thanos attacked." Thor counters.

"With the reassurance that if I did something  _stupid,_ Father would fix it. You saw what a mess I made after Nidavellir. Look at how far we've gotten by just  _my_  hand, Thor. We didn't even honour our dead until a year after they passed."

"We didn't have  _time."_ Thor argues, "We were building a city."

"No, stop, you don't understand—Father  _left Asgard to me._ It's my  _birthright_ to protect  _them_  and I can't even protect both o _f you!_   _I_  lost our younger brother to the Mad Titan and—"

"No you  _didn't!"_ Thor demurs, "We  _both_ visited Jotunheim that day. Laufey lied to  _both_ of us!"

"Do you think I don't know that?" Hela's voice is low, " _I'm_ supposed to look out for both of you now, and all I do is drag you into bloody wars!"

Thor's fist clenches with frustration, "That is  _not—"_

" _Both of you bare scars from my—"_

" _STOP IT!_ " Loki explodes, slamming a hand down on the counter. The sound is full of rage, but  _hollow._ Thor flinches and sees Hela draw back. Loki's face is placid, but it's a facade, Thor can see it in his hands and stance. He exhales raggedly, as if trying to gain control of himself. "Just— _stop._ This isn't helping anything."

Thor stares.

Hela is breathless, then opens her mouth to say something, but Loki shoots her a sharp look. Hela snaps her jaw shut and silence settles over them for a long few seconds. Thor's tongue feels strangely  _hot_ and he can't get it to move in his mouth.

Loki clenches his fist tightly, rubbing around the registry strap lowly, "We will fix this tomorrow. And we will  _not_ speak of it until then." He flicks a hand out towards the couch, "Sit down, I'm going to go find my laptop and then we're going to watch something stupid until both of you stop picking fights with each other."

Loki storms off towards the bedroom and Thor and Hela awkwardly move to either end of the couch, but don't make eye contact. It's not often that Loki has to take charge, bang their heads together, and then keep them from strangling each other, but it does happen. More so than recently.

Thor chews on his inner lip with frustration, but doesn't try to start a conversation. His mouth is to dry. Full of guilt. Shame.

Loki returns with his laptop in hand and plops in between both of them, shoving off magazines and a container full of breath mints off of the coffee tablewith sorcery as he does so. He rests the laptop on the cleaned space and pulls it open, quickly typing in his password.

The silence is still present.

Thick.

Heavy.

Thor can hear Hela's unsteady breathing, but when he chances a look at her, her hair is blocking her face. He looks back at the screen and makes a face, "Discovery Channel? Brother really—?"

"No.  _No._ " Loki interrupts and looks back at him, rubbing at his wrist, "Shut up. The only decision you get is how loud the volume is. Sister, do you want to learn about penguins or domesticated dogs?"

Hela leans back on the couch, hands folded across her chest. She's in, as he's heard Tony describe Natasha sometimes, a "mood". She blows out a breath raggedly, then gestures towards the screen lazily, "Penguins."

"Excellent." Loki mutters and loads the video. Thor realizes that his shoulders are tense and tight, and hands keep twitching. A pang of guilt spreads through him. Loki woke  _him_ up nearly an hour ago to calm down, but Thor hasn't done anything to help. He  _tried,_ but he knows that he should have pushed harder to get Loki to talk.

But he didn't.

Again.

Norns he  _hates this._

Curse Thanos and the Chitauri. Thor hopes they suffer gangrene. Or something else horrible. He can think of several creative ways for them to die (and it Thanos's case, again).

The episode begins to load and the woman begins to speak about the penguins in a chirpy voice that makes Thor want to strangle her, but he remains quiet per Loki's request. Loki refuses to look at either of them and he doesn't grow any less tense as time passes on.

They're about twenty minutes into the episode when Hela rises from her depths of moody waters and takes some stray pieces of Loki's hair. Their younger brother flinches at the touch and Hela rests a hand on his shoulder as if to reassure him that it's fine and he's  _safe_. When Loki has settled somewhat, she begins to weave an intricate braid with the thin strands of his dark hair.

The action seems to calm both of them.

Thor bites at his tongue again before he rises to his feet and walks to the other side of the couch, perching on the edge and takes Hela's long hair into his hands. He tugs the hair tie already present back, then begins to braid with six strands, a technique that Natasha has been trying to teach him for months. He's had varying degrees of success. Mostly failures.

Another twenty minutes pass, and Thor has finished the braid, Hela hers and the episode on penguins ended. Loki closes the internet tab and shuts the lid to the laptop, turning to look at them slightly. He's rubbing at his registry cuff again, but his expression is patient and it makes Thor want to shrink. He's  _always_ patient. How does he never just  _snap?_ Thor steals his face until it dissembles.

Hela sighs quietly. "I'm sorry, I know that this hasn't been easy on any of us, but it's no excuse to...I'm sorry. We don't need to be at the meeting until morning, so I think it would be best if we all get some more sleep."

"Yes." Thor agrees, "I'm sorry, too."

Loki rises to his feet. "Until the morning, then?" He walks off before either one of them can answer and Thor sees him disappear into their joined room. Thor bites at his inner lip and his sister looks back at him, her expression drawn. "Did he wake you?" Her voice is a bare whisper.

"Yes." Thor answers in the same tone, running a hand through his short hair in his agitation. "His nightmares are getting frequent again. He didn't sleep on the plane either."

Hela's quiet a moment, thinking, "I don't think that this…" she gestures around them, "is helping anything."

No.

It's not.

This was not an optimal time for the U.N. to gather them together. "What should we do?" He questions hesitantly.

Hela shakes her head, "I know not. Just...watch him. We'll be gone in a few days...hopefully."

000o000

The second meeting passes much as the first. General Ross gathers them together, they discuss the Accords again and everyone refuses. General Ross seems just as agitated as before, but Thor notes that his gaze lingers on Loki for longer than normal.

It makes Thor want to hit him, but he manages to restrain himself.

Loki doesn't seem to notice.

They're sent off into the wild again with Ross encouraging them to "think on it" for another few hours. Thor's irritation grows, but not to the point of yesterday. He doesn't kick anything and Hela shoves them both towards the nearby plane hanger.

They don't touch anything, but Thor would be lying to say that he doesn't. Loki pokes his head at an engine, then turns back to them rambling with excitement about how the motor works and the science and technology is so old it's painful, but he's enthralled. Thor listens to his ranting with a fond smile and sees Hela smirking softly behind them.

They return to the hotel that night, and Loki successfully cooks dinner with less problems than Thor had.

The next two days pass much the same. General Ross tries to get them to agree, everyone refuses, and then they return back to the hotels or the recently discovered food-shop. It's not quite a fast food restaurant, but it's something similar. Thor wants to grind his hands into his eye with frustration by the end of the third day since their arrival.

_Just give up or change it._

_No one is going to agree to these ludicrous terms._

They're in their hotel room on the end of the fourth day when Thor hears Loki drop something in the kitchen with a crash and a loud stream of swears follows. His brow furrows and he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, from where he's been laying down in an attempt to help his head, and pokes his head out of the room.

Loki is standing next to the counter with broken glass beside to his boots, shaking his left hand wildly. It's the one with the registry bracelet, Thor distantly realizes. He has enough time to process  _that_ before Loki's expression fills with frustration and he  _slams_ his wrist against the counter with a loud  _crack._

Thor moves forward, "Loki, what's—?" He starts to question, but stops as Hela enters the room a similar question falling from her lips.

Loki's eyebrows are arched with pain, but he lifts up his shaking hand towards them. He eyes it with betrayal. "This crass thing has been acting up since we arrived here." A shiver races through his body and his teeth latch together with pain again, "Bloody—" He starts before he brings his wrist up to slam against the countertop again.

Hela catches his arm before he makes contact, her eyes narrowed. "Don't." She commands sharply.

Loki's flitting eyes meet her's desperately. "It won't stop. I've tried  _everything._ "

Loki  _has_  been rubbing at his wrist for  _days_ now, Thor realizes distantly. He noted it, but he didn't ask  _why._ He thought it was maybe just a new nervous habit—which, now that thought he's properly formed that into words—makes no  _sense._ Loki picks at his palms, he doesn't rub his wrists.  _Idiot. Why is he always so ignorant of everything?_

Hela's lips thin, "You should have told us."

"You've been a bit busy," Loki counters, "I hardly thought it important."

Hela gives him a look and Thor sees Loki sag with mild defeat. She releases his wrist and Loki's face twists with pain as his arm spasms again. Thor and Hela share a look. "You need to see a healer. Asgard isn't available, where's Bruce?" She turns to Thor for an answer and Thor gnaws on his inner lip for a moment.

"He said he and Tony were going to go order food from that restaurant-not-restaurant place, I believe. Loki and I can head there to see if he can find anything."

"My  _sedir_ couldn't, brother," Loki grumbles under his breath, "it's done nothing. I doubt Bruce will find anything."

Hela nods, "I was supposed to meet Steve and Nat for a spar later, so that sounds fine. I'll clean up the glass. What was it you were trying to do, brother?"

"Water." Loki says, his tone clipped and steps over the shards. Thor nods and rubs at his head to try and ease the headache before he and Loki exit the room.

000o000

Twenty minutes later, Thor has managed to track Tony and Bruce down in the semi-crowded restaurant-not-restaurant. They're both eating what look like french fries and making equal faces of disgust. As he and Loki walk up to the pair, Tony turns to him and waves one of the fries up.

"This," he starts, tone cheerful, "tastes like garbage."

Loki huffs, then jibes: "So it is kin of your cooking?"

"Hey!" Tony snaps, indignant, "I'm not  _that_ bad."

"On the contrary—" Loki starts and Tony makes a face before he throws the fry lazily towards Loki. Thor catches it before it can make contact and rests it on the table. Tony looks up at him, expression furrowed.

"Is something wrong?" Tony questions, then looks at the two of them, "Where's Hades?"

"Our sister is otherwise occupied." Thor answers when Loki makes no move to, hand flexing in and out. "Bruce, could you take a look at Loki's hand? It's been acting up and we're not sure why."

Bruce nods, tossing a remain of one of the garbage fries towards the tray and pushes up his glasses. "Yeah, can I…?" He trails off gesturing for Loki's arm. With reluctance, Loki thrusts his hand in the scientists direction, fingers clenched tightly.

Loki flinches to Bruce's touch as he draws the hand closer, and Thor sees the doctor's eyes narrow. He turns Loki's wrist back and forth and squints, then lifts up his own arm and draws back his sleeve to reveal his own registry cuff. Thor realizes that Loki's is glowing softly around the seams, but Thor's and Bruce's aren't. They're just white. Just ugly. Not glowing.

What on the Norns name?

Bruce meets his eyes, his gaze wary. After a moment, he releases Loki's hand and turns his head back, "Tony?" He questions, voice quiet. The brown-haired man looks up, eyebrows drawn.

"Mmm?"

"There's something wrong with this," Bruce says and gestures to the registry cuff, "it's glowing."

"Really? It shouldn't be…" Tony starts, eyebrows narrowing. He leans across the table and pokes at the cuff. Loki flinches and Thor sees the tic in his jaw tighten. Thor rests a hand on his shoulder, but Loki barely seems to notice it. Tony flips Loki's arm back and forth, quickly, but gently, and then he drags his nail along the seam of the edge.

Loki gasps sharply, and Thor tightens his grip. Tony looks up at him, "That hurt?"

"Immensely." Loki answers between gritted teeth. "I've already tried to remove it. It doesn't come off."

Tony's frown deepens, "They have a master key. Mine doesn't remove either."

Loki's face has lost any remaining color and his chest heaves twice before he says: "Please let it go. You're making it worse."

Tony drops his hand like it's burned him and Loki's cuff slams against the table. Thor's eyes widen and Loki's breath hitches with pain, drawn and tight before he attempts to lift his hand slightly and collapses to his knees, gasping.

Thor's chest tightens with panic and he leans down, grabbing his younger brother's shoulder. "Loki—"

"Stop, stop,  _stop, stop—"_ Loki gasps out and Thor realizes that his fists have begun to glow with a dull power. Sedir. He's calling on his sedir and he isn't breathing. He's panicking. Loki shoves his shoulder off and looks back at him, eyes drawn wide. They're glazed. His breaths are coming out as squished breaths and a panicked noise escapes him.

His hand spasms again and Loki lands on his elbow.

"Loki, I—?" Bruce questions behind them, his voice level. "I need you to breathe.  _Breathe."_

" _Stop, stop, stop—"_

"Brother—"

"Reindeer Games," Tony starts and moves from his position at the table, but Loki lets out a yell of utter  _terror_ and scrambles away, back slamming into one of the walls. His hand slams against the ground and magic... _explodes_ out around them. Green and white, powerful  _energy_ buzzing and exploding.

Thor is thrown off his feet, landing hard on his back and gasping without being able to draw air before he hears a loud  _crack_ and he whips his head up to see the ceiling giving out.  _Norns, Norns, Norns—_

Thor scrambles for cover, but, before he can reach any, the building comes down over his head and swallows any sound with it.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Late April or sooner! :)
> 
> Oh my gosh, this feels so pathetic, but...this week has been super hard to get through for me. (#Mental Illnesses) I just...urgh. *Tries to build up courage*. Could...would it possible to get some more positive reviews? You guys already make me feel AMAZING with your comments, but I would really appreciate it if you did so again for this chapter. (I feel like such a needy brat, I'm sorry, I just...I would really find that helpful).
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your comments! I have treasured them! =) Thanks to everyone for reading! I'm grateful to have you as my readers! :)
> 
> Okay. Yup. Alright. Until chapter four! (Also, you're welcome for the cliffhanger. ;))


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! EARLY CHAPTER! YOU'RE WELCOME!
> 
> =) =) Thank you guys so, SO much for your support. My stomach has felt all warm and fuzzy all week and it helped so much. You guys are the BEST! *hugs each of you tightly*. I feel so loved that I cried. Pathetic, yeah, but I did. :) Thank you!
> 
> This chapter is especially dedicated to: Chickenspoon42, butterflydreams (guest), two guests I, unfortunately, do not have a name for, Chocolatespringrolls, The_Fish_Of_Death, ImGrey, Geo, petreparkour, ImperialDragon, ThatOneGuest, Ive_arrived_late, Karma, InBetween, EternalCakeLover, The DestinyWay1000, roo2010, and sandbeeone. THANK YOU!
> 
> Thank you everyone else for reading! You're amazing! =)
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Panic attacks, some description of injury, and minor violence.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

_I got nothing left to prove,_

_Cause I've got nothing left to lose,_

_See me bare my teeth for you._

-Mikky Ekko "Who Are You, Really?" 

 

* * *

 

Everything is so dulled it screams.

His breath is sharp and acidic against his bleeding tongue as hisses rattle out between his teeth. Every inhale only makes the feeling of drowning worse, and further disorients him, causing the pulse of his ribs to be more prominent. He can't breathe, and he can't  _see._

The only grounding assurance he possess is the fact that he's being  _crushed;_  his left side is pressed against the ground as his right bears the weight and sharp pulses of metal and wood digging into his skin.

He can't…

He  _can't…_

What  _happened?_

Where  _is_ he?

He can distantly make out the sounds of the building shifting around him and a ring of water. Maybe fire, but the water is protuberant. Pressing. He's wet, but he can't...he doesn't think it's because of the water. Why can't he  _focus?_ Something is pressing against his conscious, but he can't breathe enough to understand what it is.

His arm is  _burning._ It's a gasping jolt that refuses to relent. It's pulsing, stinging like someone is slowly driving a thick needle between his muscles. It drives his mind further into the chaotic panic, memories he can't quite grasp reminding him that this much pain means something pressing, painful, but he  _can't remember._

Breathe.

He can't panic.

He needs to sit still lest he accidentally crush something else important. His ribs are straining his lungs. He's fine. The voices are drawing closer. Louder. With nothing more to do save panic, he listens. Multiple voices are male and he can hear the whir of equipment, and a hacking noise. A woman is speaking rapidly as well, her voice is weighted, but distinct words are lost to him.

But where…

He…

_Paaaain._

_Sister, that's enough. You're going to kill him, Gamora. Father said we aren't—_

He clenches his left fist despite the sharp pain that follows the flaming one, lips pressing together tightly.

Grounding.

He's—here. He's here.

Wherever here is.

Buried.

Is he ever going to get  _out—_ the voices. They're still there, and only getting louder. He's going to get out. Breathe—augh! Not  _that_ deeply, you alec!

The rubble above him shifts and his chest gasps with relief, a sharp exhale escaping him. More is removed and he hears the sounds of someone exclaiming loudly, then a faint light pours across his frame. It lightens the worst of the disaster around him and from his curled fetal position, he can see the pools of water and glass.

But he can  _see._

Loki breathes in deeply, sharply, painfully, but he  _inhales_ and there is no crushing weight against his ribs. The weight against his legs is released and Loki has a little less than two seconds to process this before a pair of boots lands in his clipped vision.

" _Loki_!" The voice is drawn in panic. Loki attempts to lift his hand to look up at it, but finds that he  _can't._ A strangled cry tears from his throat and his hand slumps against his face. It doesn't matter to the speaker, they move towards him rapidly, landing on their knees.

A hand, rushed, but gentle, grips his forearm and eases his hand away from his face despite his mewls. He flicks his eyes up.

Hela's figure greets his sight. She's covered in dust and chips from the broken building, her face smudged with dirt. Hair hangs around her face, but it's slick with sweat. Something has happened, and he doesn't—

Thor.

Oh,  _Norns._

Thor was here.

When Loki—Loki...he doesn't remember.  _He doesn't know what happened!_ How can he not remember!? He remembers  _everything._  Where is Thor? Is he hale? Were they attacked? No. That doesn't seem right. They're here for the Accords and Thor took him...took him to see a doctor. A doctor, yes, because his hand kept acting up and spiraling him into panic attacks because the  _last_ time he'd been in such constant pain was on the Sanctuary and—

No.

He's not thinking about that.

They went to see Bruce and Tony was there, too, and Bruce tried to fix it and—Loki can't remember anything past that. His memory blackens before a drawn panic as he realized the building was going to crush him.

"Loki!" Hela's voice snaps him back to the present. Her voice is thick with something Loki distantly recognizes for tears. Her hand presses against his face, cupping his cheek as she turns his head towards her, "Come on, come on, can you hear me? Loki? Norns, you idiot, answer or I swear I will—"

Loki gives a light dip of his head, grimacing when his head pulses. Hela's shoulders sag with relief, "Oh, thank the Norns," she whispers, then her hand is frantically moving down to his shoulder, then feeling along his ribs. Loki gasp sharply when her hand makes contact and she stills, then continues her assessment.

His ribs and calves took the worst of the damage; the weight. Everything else just aches.

Thor.

Where is Thor?

Tony? Bruce? Norns, there were more than twenty people in that diner.

"Loki," Hela's voice grounds him again, "hey, focus. We're going to get you out of here. Can you feel your feet?"

It would be a relief  _not_ to. He can't get his tongue to work; it's bleeding from where he bit it during the collapse and feels too weak to do anything but flop around his mouth uselessly. He gives another slow nod.

Relief slips into his sister's stance again and she murmurs a quiet bare-worded prayer of thanks, and then turns to the source of the light. It's too painful to look towards, so Loki keeps his gaze firmly rooted on Hela's knees. "He's conscious," Hela calls, "his spine doesn't seem damaged."

Someone calls out something in return and Loki sees a handful of silhouettes stand in front of the light and his chest seizes with irrational terror. It's the Chitauri, he can  _hear_ their clicking and the voice of Thanos's children whispering to him and reassuring him and the Other and, and, and,  _and—_

His sedir is sinking towards his fists.

It's  _freezing._

"—back," Hela warns the silhouettes, "you're making him panic. I'll get him out,  _get back!"_ The shadows leave and something dangerously close to a whimper escapes his split lips. Hela's hand rests against his face again, uncomfortable, but ever grounding. "Hey,  _hey_ , you're okay. We're going to get you out of here. You'll be fine. You're safe. Breathe, little brother,"

Loki tries, but it  _hurts._

Hela's hand shifts from his face, "I'm going to pick you up," she warns, "there's healers waiting for us outside. You're going to be fine." Hela's hands shift underneath his shoulders and a grimace of discomfort escapes him before she slides her hands beneath his knees and draws him up off the hard ground. Hela draws him close, her embrace strangely desperate.

Every part of his body immediately resists the movement, and his sister murmurs an apology before moving towards the source of the light. As they get closer, Loki realizes that Hela's face is streaked wet. She's been crying.

 _Who_ on the Nine made her  _cry?_

Loki's going to run them through; somewhere that will be  _slowly_  fatal.

A stab of pain wracks through him.

...He's going to kill them  _later._

Loki doesn't know how far they go from the destroyed building, he's mind slips from consciousness like a swaying child and the feeling of Hela's breath is reassuring against his face. Eventually, she sets him on the ground and a low groan escapes him. His eyes attempt to flutter open, but Hela's hand keeps them closed. "Shh," she instructs her voice soft as she takes his aching hand between her own, "don't look. Everything is fine."

Something else prods him and his chest heaves with panic and his hands frost lightly at his agitation; his sedir calls to his aid. Hela's hand squeezes his, "No," she instructs, and  _how is she so calm, "_ not yet. It's just healers."

Someone pokes at something and murmurs a few words, but Loki's ears are only functioning properly for Hela. He keeps straining to pick Thor's voice among so many others, but the  _noise_ in the background is deafening and he can't pick out the distinct baritone of his older brother. Norns, where  _is_ he? Is he hale?

A hand ghosts over his left calf and he flinches. Hela's hand grips his tighter and Loki realizes dully how worried she must be. She  _never_ engages in physical contact like this unless something truly awful has happened.

Thor.

_Where is Thor!?_

"Little brother, they need to set the bones. They're offering a sedative, do you want any?" Hela questions and closes his eyes again when he attempts to open them.

_No._

No pharmaceutical.

_Please._

He shakes his head rapidly, latching his teeth onto his tongue as the movement disorients him further. He barely registers when the first bone sets, or the others that follow. There's so many  _hands_ and he clenches Hela's tightly, trying to keep himself grounded at how much he  _hates this._ They're still speaking rapidly, words that are meaningless to him.

Anything they can't cover he can feel his sedir attempting to heal as it rushes through his bloodstream. It's livened, trying to fix too many areas and it's  _painful._

The hands eventually draw back after what feels like an eternity, and when Loki blinks his eyes open, he meets no resistance. The sky is dark, but the first streams of a sunset or sunrise are lifting in the distance. Smoke is loosely rising into the air and the thick taste of dirt and blood is strong against his tongue.

Everywhere around him people are rushing, feet pounding in a rhythm that's distracting. There's sirens ringing in the distance and Loki distantly recognizes a handful of the U.N.'s agents.

With some trial, Loki slowly sits up. His ribs ache, but it isn't sharp and Hela's presses a supporting hand to his upper back to keep him upright.

Loki exhales sharply and blinks several times trying to adjust himself before he looks towards Hela. Her face is still clenched with open panic, but Loki sees some of it ease when he meets her pale blue eyes. Loki untangles his tongue from the roof of his dry mouth and asks in a raspy voice he hardly recognizes as his own: "Where's…" he licks his lips, "where's Thor?"

Hela's face tightens infinitesimally, "Alive." At his distressed look, she appends: "The Avengers are watching him, but according to the medic's he's well enough off save a few bruises. Stephen was in the building and managed to catch the worst of the debris when it went down."

.. _.Ah._

Good.

Between lapses of pain and trying to will Thor to move faster, Loki can distantly make out his features sitting at a table alone. Tony had brought up his food and Loki hadn't paid attention to the sorcerer afterwards.

Loki blinks rapidly, trying to focus and looks up at her, "I…I what  _happened?"_

Hela's eyebrows lift with slight surprise, then lower again with concern and her other hand comes to feel along the back of his head. His hair is slick with sweat and feels disgusting, but he's  _here_ enough to recognize that she's looking for a bump. He didn't hit his head, he shielded it when he dove for cover.

Hela looks like she's chewing on her lower lip before she answers, "I...according to Thor, you had some sort of "fit", and your sedir reacted. The building came down because of it."

Loki chances a look towards where the diner-not-diner  _was_  present and a sickening jolt ripples through him. The building collapsed to its foundation, bits of concrete walls missing or blown off completely as the entire two-story structure remains piled in the hole.  _He_ did  _that_ on  _accident._

Accident.

And he can't remember  _any of it._

Tony drops his hand on the table and then there's  _nothing._

_What is wrong with him?_

He—

"Loki!" He whips his head to the left in recognition and barely sees Thor in the corner of his eye before his brother crashes into him with a enveloping hug. Loki's body screams with protest, but he returns the embrace with the same desperation. Thor.  _Thor._ Alive. Here. Safe.  _Loki didn't kill him._

Hela murmurs something and Thor draws back, gripping his shoulders, eyes rapidly searching him. "Are you well?"

Loki gives a grimace in response because his tongue is still refusing to work properly. It's still wet. Bloody. Painful. He quickly scans his older brother. Thor looks as tired as Hela and he's covered in a few more scratches, but seems otherwise unharmed. His body is tight, though, as if he's hiding pain.

"Point Break!" Tony exclaims behind Thor and Loki lifts his gaze to see Tony and the rest of the Avengers moving towards them. Tony's expression is frustrated and he comes to a halt next to Thor. "You are _supposed_  to be laying down."

"I already told you that I feel  _fine_." Thor argues, " _You're_ not on your obligatory bed rest, either."

Steve's expression flashes, "This isn't a joke, Thor."

"Do I look to be in a gaming mood?" Thor challenges.

"Stop," Hela demands before they can further the argument, and her hand settles a little firmer against his back when his ribs flare with pain. "You can stay here if you're going to be calm. Loki needs a stress-free environment and you biting at each other's heads isn't going to create that. If you want to argue, take it somewhere else; I'm certain that Stephen would love to babysit."

That shuts the Avengers up and Thor's expression flickers.

Loki worries his lip between his teeth and attempts to sit up a little straighter. He meets Natasha's eyes evenly, because he knows that she won't lie to protect him. That collapse was not small, and he's not stupid, nor ignorant to the damage that can be made on mortals from that. "Was there any quietuses?" His voice feels pathetically small. Natasha's expression flickers with confusion—sometimes he forgets that her native tongue is not English. Nor has she been speaking it for as long as him.

To accommodate this, Loki adds, a little louder: "Deaths."

"Brother," Thor starts, his voice soft in a nearly breathless sigh.

Natasha's expression dissembles. "Not on sight," she answers evenly. His stomach twists, a weight settling in his hands, "Everyone who wasn't enhanced is in the hospital near here; two in critical condition and the doctors don't think they'll pull through. Stephen managed to catch a majority of everyone who wasn't enhanced, but the collapse buried everyone."

The collapse.

_His collapse._

_When will you_  stop?

Was crashing the Helicarrier not  _enough?_

Loki flicks his gaze back towards the hole, attempting to gather himself enough to get to his feet. People there are still people there. People that  _he_ could be killing because he couldn't—because he had another  _fit_ and he won't stop. Norns, he really  _is_ mad, isn't he? He's heard dozens of stories of the insane who blackout and do such like this. He's losing himself.

Drowning.

_He can't breathe._

He needs to get them out. He won't let them suffocate like he's—

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—" Tony starts as he attempts to make his way to his feet. Hela and Thor rise with him, protests shooting up around him and he makes it to his feet before his body ripples with agony and he topples forward. Thor's arms wrap around him and haul him backwards until he's sitting again. Loki chews on his inner lip, his face heating with humiliation.

" _What_ do you think you're doing?" Bruce demands, pushing Thor's hands away and begins to fret over Loki's ribs. Loki shoves his hands away.

"There's…" he swallows again, cursing his stupid tongue, "people. I can't...let them...die."

Hela shakes her head, "No, Loki," she whispers. His fists clench with frustration. Hela grips his shoulder tightly, her eyes wide again and moist. She looks between hitting him at his stupidity or hugging him and crying. "Everyone is accounted for. You were the last one out."

He... _what?_

"That can't…" He starts.  _It can't be right. It hasn't been long since the collapse. Twenty minutes. Ten._

Thor's expression grows pained, "Brother, they were searching for you for four hours."

Loki's jaw slides open without his consent in shock. Four...four... _what?_ "I…" Loki's voice fails him. His silvertongue is a dull copper against the roof of his mouth. He snaps his jaw shut tightly.

Steve kneels and gives his shoulder a quick squeeze, "We thought you were…it was getting hopeless."

Four  _hours?_

How did he not suffocate?

Hela's expression draws tight again and she grips his shoulder pulling him forward a little. It isn't until she does that he realizes that he was tipping back. "You should lay down," she presses.

The building's weight against his ribs rings like a dull phantom. His breath hitches in his stomach. "No," he disagrees, "I don't think so."

Tony swears under his breath abruptly and Loki follows his gaze as Hela stops her fretting, turning to look behind them. Her fists clench by her sides tightly, her spine rippling as she rises to her feet completely. Loki tilts his head a little to look beyond her.

Walking towards them in a shadowing gleam of the overhead search lights is General Ross. His suit is ruffled, his facial hair perfectly combed, but the state of the smeared bags under his eyes suggest that he only just awoke.

Breath catches in his throat, anxiety latching onto his collarbones and  _pulling._

His wrist burns beneath the registry cuff.

Thor's grip tightens, and Loki feels Natasha and Steve's hands move to touch his upper back. He knows that they mean to be reassuring, but all they're doing is making his spine lurch and the discomfort grow. He's never been privy to physical touch, even before… _it_ happened.

General Ross is flanked by two other officials, one of which Loki recognizes to be Agent Corvek. He's followed General Ross around like a lost pup these last few days, always at his heal. He doesn't know much about the blond agent beyond the fact that he's flaunts a pathetic intelligence. Loki is filled with the sudden desire to kick him.

"What on the bloody blazes happened!?" General Ross demands, coming to a halt some three feet in front of his sister.

Hela's spine is drawn tight. "I would  _like_ to imagine that you're ignorant, but I know better."

"Ignorant of  _what?"_ General Ross hisses.

Hela lifts a hand out towards the building, "Where on Helheim have you  _been?_ The building collapsed five  _hours_ ago. There was plenty of space between now and then for you to be here. My brothers—" she cuts her voice off sharply, then continues a little harder: "almost  _died,_  and  _now_ you choose to make your arrival."

General Ross swears sharply. "I've been preoccupied."

"" _Preoccupied"?"_ Thor repeats, his voice heated, "That is hardly an excuse. It is your  _duty_ to take charge of situations like this when they take place on  _land you own."_

General Ross's face twists into something ugly, "I arrived when I  _could._ Content?"

"No." Hela snaps sharply. "Is this how you intend to run the Accords as well? Show up after six hours after the crisis is over? Ten? Fifteen?" Loki flicks his gaze out as he sees movement, then realizes with a growing trepidation that they're gaining an audience. Paramedics, other enhanced, and dozens of U.N. officials and agents.

Ross's expression flares, "How  _dare_ you pull the Accords into this—"

" _They_ are the only reason we're here!" Hela rages, "If we hadn't been here, then Loki wouldn't have had to wear the crass registry cuff and  _none of this would have happened._ This falls on  _your_ head, General."

" _Mine?"_ General Ross chokes out, " _Loki_ was the one who  _caused_ all of this! He's dangerous. Deadly. In fact—this proves my  _point._ The Accords are to prevent things like this from happening again, Loki just  _showed_ us all why we need them."

A stinging ache races through him.

Thor's fist raises to slam against General Ross, but Hela catches his bicep before he gets too far in performing the act. Steve moves forward, his body language out for blood. "This isn't some kind of joke you can bend to your ideas, General," he avers sharply, "people almost  _died_ here."

"Exactly." General Ross spits out, "And an  _enhanced_ psychopath was the reason behind it."

"I beg your pardon—" Thor starts.

"This is hardly the time to be calling insults," Stephen says calmly, coming to a halt beside Steve. Oh,  _Norns._ Loki tries to sit up a little more, but his ribs are screaming and he can't get his tongue to work. He can't even  _speak._

_Pathetic._

"I saw what happened. Loki didn't  _want_ this to happen." Stephen avers. "You're pulling at threads and trying to make cloth, General, but you don't have enough to condemn him by."

"Enough?" General Ross repeats, "Ha! You  _all_ saw what he did to New York. This is hardly a pimple of what he has the potential to do. He's murderous. Simply because we tried to grasp a little control over that with the Accords, he lashed out and nearly killed thirty people—one of which was his own  _brother."_

The anxiety in his chest is painful.

_Muuuurdererer._

_What is_ wrong  _with you!?_

General Ross continues before anyone can respond: "Many of the heroes have already signed. They saw what could be done here and came to their senses. Why was I late, Your Majesty?" He turns to her, "I was busy finishing details of the Accords with those who were  _wise_ enough accept them. And not just individuals. Wakanda did, who's next?"

The silence around them is thick. Uncomfortably heavy before several hands lift into the air shakily. It speaks volumes. Norns. Look at what he's  _done._ He can't  _remember what happened,_ but he caused that destruction. He's an agent of chaos, but not like  _this._ It's never mindless. Never...never…

_Oh, Loki, look at what you've done._

_You've caused more than a dozen to submit themselves to subjugation, all because of your idiocy._

_You nearly killed thirty mortals._

_You nearly killed Thor._

_Muuuurdeereerrrr._

_Shut up! Norns please shut up!_

A pleased look crosses over General Ross's face, "Excellent. Agent Corvek, please escort these  _reasonable_ heroes to the meeting hall. I'll be with them shortly. To everyone else—this is a sign from God himself what can happen when power rolls this uncontrolled. This wild. You would do well to remember that when you debate what to do next. Now get, this isn't a theater. We have clean-up to do!"

A little over two minutes later the entire area is mostly cleared of gawking people save the stray agents, the Avengers, his siblings, and a few U.N. officials. General Ross turns to look back at them, his expression clouded with irritation. " _What?"_

Hela's fingers fidget against her palm for moment, "You knew." Her words are cold.

Knew.

_Knew what?_

General Ross's eyes narrow, though his body language his shifted from confident to wary. "Knew  _what,_ oh mighty Mistress of Death?"

Hela rests a hand on her hip, gesturing wildly with the other. The more she speaks the hotter her voice grows: "Do you take me for a fool, Thaddeus? I have walked this Earth before you were  _born._ I led armies into battle when I was an adolescent, held the position of executioner at the same age, and I have ruled a country for longer than you or your grandfather have been  _alive._ Darling, do you  _really_  believe I could not put two and two together?"

Visibly shaken, and a little pale, General Ross asks: "What is it that you believe I've done?"

"The registry cuff. You adjusted it somehow—snap your trap shut, there's no use defending yourself. There are few people who have received a detailed report on what happened to my brother before he arrived on Earth, but  _you_ somehow got a hold of what Thanos did. And you  _used_ my brother like some sort of sick tool to get them to sign. You used him as an example because you  _knew_ he has not yet fully recovered."

The cuff.

Loki had not even…

It hadn't started to hurt as intensely until after they didn't sign the Accords the first day. Before that was just a headache that didn't lessen with time or sleep. General Ross played him into his hands with  _ease._ Norns, why didn't he see it...why did he not see it  _coming?_ He has been manipulating people for hundreds of years, but he couldn't even see this—

General Ross is quiet a moment, his eyes drawn tight before he appears to accept defeat. "Yeah, well, they needed the push."

Hela's fist slams against Ross's face. There is not restraint this time, no holding back of her enhanced strength. Loki didn't even see her arm  _move,_ and if Thor did, Loki has his doubts he would have stopped it. General Ross tumbles to the ground, gasping, blood leaking from the broken nose. The rage is pouring from her and Loki can see the grass around her feet yellowing with decay.

With death.

Hela brutally kicks General Ross in the ribs twice and he groans. With a flare of disgust in the movement, she shoves him to his back with her boot. But his sister isn't finished.

From the looks of things, she's just getting  _started_.

"Hey!" Several agents call out and move forward to stop her, but Hela's head swings in their direction and she flings a handful of weapons in a wide arc, her aim folly on purpose, forcing the agents dive out of the way. She grabs Ross by his shirt and drags him off the ground by his collar.

The man sputters and Thor takes a step forward, his hands fidgeting with discomfort. Bruce, Clint, and Tony follow after his brother.

General Ross sputters, his hands coming to wrap around her forearm. "That...all you got?" He grins crookedly, revealing bloodied teeth.

"Oh, Darling, the things I could do to you," Hela whispers softly, almost as if offering a mournful croon.

"Sister…" Thor warns.

"Hela," Clint says firmly beside him.

General Ross's eyes narrow, "Do your worst," he gasps out. His stance is hard and cocky, as if he believes himself in charge. He doesn't think that Hela will do anything more, but Loki has seen her rage for centuries. General Ross's command is a facade, and  _only_  a facade. Loki sees resolve settle into Hela's shoulders.

Safety clicks off on many weapons.

_They're going to shoot his sister._

"Oh, I intend to," Hela promises and summons a long dagger, hand swinging up to gut the general, but Loki jerks his hand out, catching her arm with sorcery. He strains at the force, but settles and rises unsteadily to his feet. Natasha catches a majority of his weight when he stumbles. He makes his way forward shakily.

Hela looks back at him, "Let go."

"No."

"I'm going to kill him.  _Let. Go."_

" _No."_

"Loki…"

Loki grabs her arm, ignoring Ross's gleeful, smirking face. "Stop. What happened was my fault. It has  _nothing_  to do with him."

It's just him.

With his crass mind and jumbled senses.

Hela scoffs. "You  _know_ that's a lie."

Yes. Well, he hasn't become a known fabricator for nothing. "Sister," his tongue is heavy and his body is close to giving out completely. "Please. Let this rest. I'm exhausted and I want to go."  _He will not have another murder on his conscious._ " _Please."_

General Ross slips from Hela's grip wordlessly and her expression stills before she draws the weapon back and swings his arm around her shoulders. His body protests to the transition, but he says nothing. Hela's lips are pressed together firmly as they move forward; Thor stands beside his other side and the Avengers take their flank.

They leave the broken building behind them, but General Ross's words are heavy against his mind. An anchor dragging him beneath this ocean that he doesn't know how to swim out of.

He is going to drown.

000o000

Loki is escorted back to his, Thor, and Hela's hotel room with aching limbs. When he's been directed to lay down on the couch and fretted over for the umpteenth time, the Avengers turn to his sister. Hela's expression is deceptively collected, but Loki can tell that she's none to happy. The silence pulls for a long few seconds before Tony asks: "Hades, what the  _heck?"_

Hela turns to him. "I'm sorry?"

"You were going to kill him." Natasha says tonelessly. " _Kill_ him. We're on the U.N.'s ground, your diplomatic immunity only extends so far."

Loki turns his head to watch them clearer, but doesn't bother to shift fully on the couch. Hela's face flashes with irritation, her weight shifting forward, "I  _know_ that. Do you know one of  _the_ most basic ways to start a war that even mortals, hundreds of years your predecessors, knew it? Attack the royal family. On Asgard, it would be well within my rights to—"

"But this isn't Asgard!" Steve counters, his eyebrows twisted in a way that Loki's come to associate with trivialization.

"Tell me that you didn't want to at least  _maim_ him for what he did—go on,  _tell me."_ Hela challenges. When no one speaks up, she huffs, her lips twitching into something bitter, "See? Vindicated."

"That's not what it's about. We're not trying to condemn you," Bruce corrects, "but if you go after him again, it's going to get beyond a repair—you may have already blown it out of the water. You just tried to  _kill_ a member of the U.N. at a  _peace treaty_ gathering."

"What would you have had me done, then!?" Hela exclaims, frustration evident in her voice. "I'm walking, as you put it, on thin ice, but I don't know what on Helheim I'm doing! Loki broke twenty-two bones from the collapse—Thor broke six. No one walked away unscathed and it's all because that crass, egoistical—"

"Hela," Thor intones softly, "please."

There's silence for a long moment, and Loki's mind drifts. He barely surfaces the depths when Steve reaches out and grasps Hela's shoulder. It's a grounding gesture, along with an effort to repair the burning bridge. "Listen," Steve says softly, "it's not our intent to castigate you."

Hela's eyebrow lifts.

Steve sighs quietly, "It surprised us; frankly, I don't think any of us would have done differently, you just reacted faster." No. Loki has his doubts  _any_ of them would have attempted to gut the general. Maim him, certainly, but not kill. Not for  _him._ They're above such murder, and Loki is relieved by that. His ledger is gushing, and he doesn't know how to make it stop.

"We're leaving," Hela says at long last, her voice harrowed. "I'm  _going_ to kill someone if we stay longer, and General Ross will have more problems than a dislocated nose and a few broken ribs to deal with. I've already refused the Accords, what further harm can they do to us?"

A tense look passes between the five.

Loki squints, attempting to see what secret it is they're trying to bury, but he's exhausted. His mind refuses to analyze, instead insisting on sleep.

"What is it?" Thor questions, though he looks reluctant to say anything.

Tony looks like he's chewing on his inner cheek before he blows out a slight raspberry, "We already tried to leave yesterday," he explains, "Laura called and said that she hasn't seen Cooper since we left and Pep also texted me and said that she hasn't seen Peter for as long. She thinks it's because of a...side hobby—" does Tony still truly believe they don't know that Peter is Spider-Man? "—we were going to help search."

Loki's stomach sinks slightly, a cold feeling settling there.

"And?" Thor presses.

Clint's expression is dark, "We didn't make it past the gates. You sign and you leave, or you stay here until you do. That's it. "Retirement" is only if you sign, but decide not to follow."

_What?_

A low cuss escapes from Thor, but Hela's jaw clenches tightly. "I am  _queen,_ I can't—"

"You will." Natasha says, tilting her head a little with her evident frustration. "This whole mess has...it's brought up some points to us. Ross knows how to instill fear by using the possibility of  _us_ creating world catastrophes—it's what he did tonight with Loki. We're not stupid, but we're leaving the world defenseless and someone needs to find Peter and Cooper. We're going to sign."

The silence is so thick Loki can taste it.

It's heavy.

Uncomfortable.

He shifts a little, until he's semi-upright and looks towards the five, "This is your master plan?"

"We're working out the kinks," Tony argues, "but for the moment? Yes. We can't do anything until we're  _out_ there. The public needs this reassurance. We're heroes, not tyrants. Placing ourselves above the law is...it's stupid."

"It's not putting yourself  _above_ it," Hela corrects, "you're protecting yourselves from enslavement. Do you  _really_ think this pragmatic?"

"I have to find my kid," Tony says firmly, there's a hysteria that Loki can see in his hands now. The way they keep fiddling with everything and refusing to stay still. Anxious. "Peter's not going to die out there well I sit here  _knowing_ that I can do something."

"Cooper is  _thirteen."_ Clint presses, "If something found out about them...it's not a possibility I can take."

And everyone else is going because of loyalty to the family unit that the Avengers have created.

Hela's expression has softened slightly and Thor's is accepting. He grips Steve's shoulder tightly, "Then I wish you luck, friends. Whatever has befallen your children you'll find." He reassures, "Let us know if we can help."

"Unless you sign, I don't think you can," Tony says it jubilantly, but there's something bitter in his tone.

000o000

Two days and some hours later, the U.N.'s base of operations is mostly empty. After the debacle with what happened to the diner-not-diner, everyone came to some conclusion or another. Whether it was to care for family members outside of the boundaries or fear of doing what Loki did, everyone seems to sway one way or another.

Soon it's just them.

Thor's not certain to be humiliated or proud at the fact that Hela refuses to bow to the U.N.'s commands despite everything that happened. Perhaps a little bit of both.

His and Loki's injuries have mostly healed save a few bruises and tender areas to touch, but beyond that they are well. Hale. As much as they can be. Loki has been withdrawn and sullen since the collapse and Thor has to repeat what he's saying to his younger brother often when he realizes that Loki wasn't  _here_ mentally. Hela has tried to be calm and collected, but Thor knows her well enough to see that the stress is causing her to collapse.

They're a mess.

It's beginning to show.

And Thor has no idea what to do.

So ignores it until he can't.

Thor jolts awake, his heart thudding in his chest with adrenaline. His stomach is flipping weirdly, but he cannot remember what woke him. Only that his body demands that he  _run._  His hand curls around the hilt of the knife hidden beneath the pillow and he attempts to ease the tenseness of his breath, allowing the core of lightning to fester in case the need arises as he listens for noises.

Of someone else in the room.

Of  _what_ woke him.

A noise causes his muscles to seize, but it isn't a voice, or even a footstep; it's some sort of kneeing sound, but the kind that someone only makes when they're in too much pain to scream. Thor's fingers curl around the weapon and he rolls on to his side as quietly as he can, hand scrambling along the bedside table to grab at the lamp and tug the light source on.

The noise rings out again as he does so.

The light casts away a few of the shadows, but the corners are still swollen with black.

Thor sweeps his gaze across the room, finding no one and turns his attention to where Loki is located, on the other bed. He's curled in around his knees, tugged up close to his chest and the blanket is thrown precariously, almost carelessly over his frame. Thor realizes after a second of listening to Loki's ragged breath that the  _noise_ is coming from his  _younger brother._

What on the Nine—?

Thor releases the hilt of the dagger and stumbles across the room, "Loki?" He questions softly, lifting a hand out to hover above Loki's shoulder, uncertain what to do. "Brother? Are you in pain, is something wrong?"

Loki doesn't answer.

He's asleep.

Dreaming.

And still making that  _noise._

Thor gnaws on his inner cheek for a second before letting his hand press against Loki's arm. Loki flinches wildly, a choked clicking sound escaping him before he brings his hand up and slams it against Thor's sternum. Had he been  _expecting_ the sudden attack, he would have been able to catch Loki's wrist. As it is, Thor gasps and stumbles backwards, hand coming up to press against the area.

Loki scrambles away from him, pressing his back against the bed frame of the hotel bed, hands wrapping around the rods. "No, no, no,  _no, no—"_ He's repeating, gasping out heaving breaths that aren't full. Thor rubs at his chest, catching his breath as best he can and attempts to approach.

_He has no idea what he's doing._

_Or what's wrong with Loki._

_This has never happened before._

"Loki—" He tries, but his brother flinches back further, spine curling up like a tense cat.

" _Stop!"_ Loki hisses out, "I'm not going back. You  _can't make me see him today."_

 _Him?_ Who is  _him?_

"I don't understand," Thor says, "Loki, please, you're scaring me."

Loki doesn't appear to hear him, only reacting at physical movements Thor makes. He flinches wildly when Thor attempts to lift his hand to show he has no weapons, then bares his teeth sharply when Thor takes another step forward. Loki is not connected with this reality, and Thor is uncertain how to  _pull him back._

"Loki, be at ease, you're safe here. It's me, Thor, you're safe. Please breathe." Loki's ragged gasps aren't enough to be passable. He doesn't listen, instead curling his hands tighter around the bed frame and drawing his feet towards his stomach as if to protect the vital organs.

When Thor is touching the mattress again, Loki's chest rises and falls rapidly before his green, hazed eyes settle and he  _dives_ at Thor. Expecting such a reaction this time, Thor dodges the blow, tumbling into the bedside table between the two beds. The pain is sharp and fiery, but ignorable. The lamp rattles, causing the light to flicker. Loki stumbles to the floor, but draws himself up quickly.

"Have you not torn me apart  _enough?"_ Loki growls thickly, "What is there  _left_ of you to tear out?"

Thor's stomach is sick with anxiety and a twisted confusion. His fingers are numb. Loki attempts to dive at him again, but Thor catches his forearms, holding him in place. Loki's eyes draw with further panic and he wildly struggles before jumping up and smacking his feet against Thor's stomach.

Thor's back slams into the table's edge and he hisses between his teeth, a surge of lightning rattling across his body in response to the pain and Loki gasps with pain as it touches him. Thor draws his hands back quickly, horrified, and Loki tumbles to his back, his fists glowing a dull green.

Not again.

_Norns._

This is not some sort of trick, Loki is having another one of his "episodes".

And he can't deal with it by himself. Thor dives at the younger, keeping a knee firmly on Loki's stomach and slamming Loki's forearms down against the ground, attempting to keep his hands as still as he can. Sorcery is nowhere near as effective without hand movement.

"HELA!" Thor hollers, " _HELA!"_

Loki struggles underneath him, but Thor keeps him firmly planted on the ground. Loki's entire forearms are beginning to glow and Thor wishes for the umpteenth time that he  _knew_ more about sorcery this advanced and  _what_ exactly this means. Nothing good, Thor's guessing.

_Where is their sister?!_

" _HELA!"_

The light flicks on to the adjoined room, momentarily blinding him and he hears rapid footsteps, "Thor, what the—" Hela starts, barging into the room, sword in either hand and her expression looking prepared for murder. Or to  _face_ murder. She's still dressed in her pajamas, hair tucked into a messy braid that her shorter layers are falling loose from. Her eyes rapidly move across the scene before her expression drops and she tosses the weapons to the floor.

She lands on her knees beside Loki and looks at him, "What's going on?"

"I don't know!" Thor admits, more terror than he cares to admit present in his voice. "He won't wake up."

Hela hisses out a curse then in a fit of frenzied panic or some sort of higher beings suggestion, she smacks Loki across the face. Loki's struggles still, a dull, defeated look slipping into his eyes. It scares Thor more than the fight did.

Hela backhands him again, and Loki's chest heaves, his face tensing, but the glassy look to his eyes is fading. Thor doesn't relent his hold, the veins along Loki's forearms and fingers are still glowing, and they don't need another incident like two days ago. Hela shifts slightly, then rests a hand over Loki's eyes.

Loki initially flinches to her touch, head shaking to remove it, but after nearly ten seconds, his muscles give with defeat. A deep, gasping breath draws in rapidly through his nose and he blows it out sharply. Then he does it again, and again.

Hela flicks a stray piece of hair from his face, but keeps her hand firmly over his eyes. "Loki," she addresses, her voice level for all the fear on her face, "do you know who I am?"

Loki is quiet, then wets his lips, voice hoarse: "My sister."

Relief slumps through Thor's muscles, and he sees Hela's face reveal the same emotion. "Yes." She agrees, "Do you know who is holding your arms down?"

"...Thor."

"Good," Hela avers, "where are we?"

Loki is quiet for a long moment, then a ragged hiss of fear escapes him, "I don't know." Thor's stomach drops and he bites at his tongue sharply to keep himself from saying anything. "I can hear someone coming. The Chitauri," Loki whispers, his face growing paler, "we're in the Sanctuary, aren't we?"

The  _what?_

"Please don't make me go back, I can't...I  _can't—"_

Hela smooths hair from his face, though Thor notes that her hands are trembling, "You're not going anywhere, brother. The only people in the room is just me, you, and Thor. We're in New York City, on Midgard. You are on the floor. It's currently three-twenty-two in the morning. I need you to take in a deep breath."

Loki tries, but doesn't find much success.

"Try one more time, brother," Thor encourages, loosening his hold. He's afraid to break it completely until someone tells him to.

The breath is not smooth and it's shallow. "Something's wrong," Loki whispers. " _Please._ Something's wrong and I-I-I—"

"Shh," Hela instructs, "Darling, you're fine. Just keep trying. Thor is going to release you, but I'm going to keep my hand over your eyes. I need you to call back your sedir. You don't need it. You're safe here."

Hela looks up at him and gives a small nod. Thor hesitantly releases Loki's left hand, then his right and moves to Loki's left, releasing the pinning. Loki's chest rises and falls raggedly as he attempts to stave off the panic, but Thor sees the deep emerald in his skin lesson. Then fade completely.

Loki's hand scrambles along the ground as if searching for something, then it stills as it touches the edge of Thor's knee. Thor bites at his lower lip, then takes Loki's hand with his own, gripping the fingers tightly.

"In and out," Hela instructs, "hold for two, out for two, breathe with me."

Loki's attempts eventually align with their sister's, and, when his breathing has steadied, Loki curls onto his side, pressing his head against Hela's knee and his feet touching Thor. Hela gently pulls her hand back, running a hand through his messy hair.

"I'm sorry." Loki mutters quietly.

Thor shares a disbelieving look with Hela. "Brother," Thor starts softly, his voice barely above a quiet sigh.

"No one wants to deal with trauma." Loki insists.

"No one  _asks_ for it either," Thor points out.

"We're not angry," Hela assures, "you needn't fight yourself over this." Loki rubs at his eyes with the back of his palm, reminding Thor abruptly of how tired he is. "Do you want to speak over what happened?"

Loki's lips twist into a mirthless smile and he releases a bitter laugh. "Everyone wants to use my time as Thanos against me, including my own mind."

Thor's eyes widen.  _Oh._

"Brother…" he trails, uncertain what to so. What he  _can,_ because nothing he says will make it better. Just because Loki is his brother doesn't mean he can love this away.

Hela appears to gnaw at her inner lip before she shakes her head softly, "Alright, we're all exhausted, we should go to bed." She rises to her feet and grabs one of the spare pillows from off of Thor's bed, throwing it onto Loki's and jerking her head at them to follow. Thor does so, not as surprised as he would have been a few centuries ago.

They used to do this all the time when he and Loki were children.

They did it often after the ill-fated trip to Nidavellir.

Loki ends up squished in the middle, mumbling about stolen blankets and how cold their feet are before he curls up next to Thor's side and Hela throws a hand lazily across their chests. The weight is reassuring, a reminder that they're still  _here_ and alive.

Contently warm and the feeling of  _safe_ radiating across him, Thor falls asleep quickly.

000o000

Thor awakens to Loki's head resting on his stomach, Hela's feet pushing against his calves and stuffed beneath Loki's knees. The blankets are a mess at their feet, but Thor is contently warm nonetheless. Hela is awake with her hands clasped behind her head, staring up at the ceiling.

He only has to wait a few seconds before she looks towards him. Her eyes are shaded heavily. Thor has his doubts she slept through the night. Hela breathes out sharply, then says in a soft whisper: "I'm going to contact the Avengers and ask them to get us out of here."

Thor stares at her. "...Isn't that...we'll be fugitives, won't we?"

"I suspect so," she murmurs, "but I refuse to enslave our people, and none of us can remain here for any longer. Loki can get us out with sorcery, we just need the registry cuffs to be disabled."

Thor frowns, a discomfort beneath his ribcage expanding to wrap around his stomach. "I'm not certain that—"

"It's the only option I can think of right now," Hela doesn't sound ready to pick a fight, she sounds exhausted enough to weep and it silences him faster than her anger would have. She may rarely lose her temper around them, but tears are less so. "I'll hold a council with parliament and the curia regis, we'll determine what to do from there."

A council that, as High Commander of Asgard's army, he'll be present for.

He has to.

He, Hela, and three others are a part of the War Council. If this is to determine what actions need to be taken, they're going to  _have_ to consider the possibility of war. Thor suddenly feels overwhelmingly exhausted.

"Your plan is to escape to Asgard and hope that we don't get caught along the way?" Thor questions. His doubt is present, but he can't bring himself to care properly. Asgard is more than twelve hours from New York by plane.

Hela's eyes close with frustration, "Yes. I already texted Tony. He found a way to hack the registry cuffs from a computer. The "master code" he was talking about is a digital number. He told me he'd let us know when he'd cracked it."

Thor frowns a little, but flicks his gaze towards the band wrapped around his wrist that has both solved the mess for the U.N. and only created a larger one for everyone else.

"I suspect that leaving won't be to much of a problem," Loki whispers silently and Thor nearly jolts, having forgotten that Loki was present in the room. Loki has always been a light sleeper, so he doubts that his and Hela's conversation has been private since it began. He's gotten better and feigning sleep that Thor can remember, though.

Thor hums in question.

Loki sighs, "When is a door not a door?"

Ugh. Riddles. Swell. Thor thinks on it for a second, then realizes that it's a phrase he's heard Loki rant about before and pops out the answer in a little less than ten seconds: "When it's a jar."

"Exactly," Loki states, "if we want to get out of here, we can't be sitting still staring at the doors. When the registry cuffs are off, I can get us out and to Asgard by the shadow paths. If they wanted us to stay here, they shouldn't have invited me. I have ten centuries of practice, do they really believe I can't get us all out of a locked room?"

Point.

Thor has seen him do it before.

Hela's shoulders ease with tension. "Good," she says and Thor can hear some mirth in her voice when she adds: "Now hand me the blanket, I'm freezing and your feet aren't helping."

Loki throws the blanket at her face.

Thirty minutes later, after a quick text from Tony, the three of them have cleaned the rooms of their possessions, Loki re-inserted any cameras or microphones present and they leave the registry cuffs in a neat little pile on the coffee table (Hela attaching, with some amusement, a small sticky note reading "NO" in bold letters), and Loki's guiding them through the folds of reality towards Asgard.

They're out.

Escaped.

_Free._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I have a semi-funny story to tell you. So my friend and I were watching Justice League because I had a mental collapse today (I'm one of the .2% that like legit loved the movie, okay? No judgement XD) and we were discussing the villain and my friend was complaining about how the villain was over powered and had no depth and then they were like, no joke: "But you know, you like Loki because he's...he's like weak, pathetic, and scrawny, and has the complexion of a pancake."
> 
> A pancake.
> 
> I just...Okay. Anyway, hope that made someone laugh. :)
> 
> Next chapter: No clue, but hopefully soon! I want to try and get it out before Endgame (guys, it's like two weeks from now. I am so not ready), but we'll see.
> 
> Again, thank you so much! I love you all, until chapter 5!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your support, guys! It has meant the world to me! =)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> Warnings: Some violence.

* * *

 

The three of them stumble onto the grounds of Resumption without proper footing. Hela has never been fond of walking through the shadow paths, a reason for this being that a side effect of them is that finding normal ground again is nearly impossible, even with experience. Given this, she and her siblings step into proper ground and then promptly fall flat on their faces.

A breath of annoyance escapes her and she sits up a little rubbing at the elbow that took most of the impact.  _Ow._

Thor groans slightly and sits up, rubbing at his forehead. "How do you frequently use that?"

Loki tosses his head up, flicking hair from his face. "I don't. Teleporting is faster, but I can't take either of you with me. Not for long distances."

"My everything hurts." Thor notes, almost with a tired fascination. "I hate it when you use that."

Hela brushes hair from her face and blows out a sharp breath between her nose, drawing herself up to her feet. Loki and Thor do so beside her as well, Loki brushing down his tunic.

Loki pulled them onto one of the narrower cliff sides of Resumption, but Hela can still see the city. Not far from here, but far enough. It looks the same as how they left it nine (has it  _really_ been only nine?) days ago. Still golden. Still standing. Still safe.

That is all to change.

Their timer has begun to tick. It's been doing so since they left the the hotel. They need to move quickly, they have none to spare for dwindling here. She glances towards her brothers, realizing just how exhausted both look. She can't blame them. Nor claim that she feels much better.

This last week and more has been exhausting.

She rubs at her elbow for a final time before moving towards the city. It's only a little under a six minute walk, but it feels like longer. As they step into the outskirts of the main square, the Asgardians come up to them. Some are talking excitedly at their return, others are more withdrawn. The most prominent emotion that she can pick out, though, is worry.

They were only supposed to be gone for seven days; perhaps less. Why were they delayed? Although she herself didn't get injured in anyway, she's certain that Loki and Thor's recent wounds are not exactly hidden. Or the fact that they  _were_ injured. The injuries have set, the areas are just tender now.

Despite the Asgardian's attempts to get answers out of them, Hela finds that she can't quite get her tongue to loosen. It's tight and drawn up against the roof of her mouth, refusing to release. Thor and Loki are quiet as well.

She's not exactly sure what she's waiting for before she begins to explain, but when Heimdall arrives through the crowd, something in her chest loosens with relief. The gatekeeper shoves his way to the front with ease and comes to a halt in front of them. He grips her shoulder with a gentle tenderness that Hela's hands fist for.

"Queen Hela, Prince Thor, Prince Loki," Heimdall greets, his voice is as toneless as ever, but his eyebrows a meeting a little. She can't quite determine what the expression is, but it looks faintly angered.  _Angry?_ Why on the Norns name would he be  _angry?_ He...a quick glance towards his eyes reassures her that he saw  _everything._

She's not certain how she feels about that. She barely represses the desire to squeeze her eyes shut and clench her jaw with mild...it isn't embarrassment, but perhaps frustration.

"Lord Heimdall," Hela answers in turn, resisting the urge to bite at her gums.

_Why won't it just—!?_

Breathe.

Heimdall releases her arm and nods a little, his gaze quickly jumping across her other siblings, but lingering on Loki. Hela sees his fists clench a little. He gathers himself, "Welcome home."

Home. Ha.

This has  _never_ been home.

It's not Asgard.

It hasn't been since they stepped foot here, and despite how much they cover their eyes and try to pretend otherwise, it  _isn't_ going to be their home planet. Asgard is  _dead._ They belong here no more than a sheep belongs at a banquet table.

The crowd is gathering now, leaving herself and her brothers in the center. Hela would  _love_ the opportunity to refresh a little, but they don't have the time. Time, time,  _time._ She's starting to find a great distaste with the word.

She spots several members of the curia regis within the group, and a few from parliament. Typically, she would take this to the council hall, but this concerns  _all_ of them. It has little to do with the government or declaring wars. What they're going to do to escape this shouldn't just be up to her and a handful of snooty men and women.

Hela gnaws on her inner lip as she realizes she actually has  _no idea_ how to go about explaining what happened in New York. Nor how to  _begin_ the details of the Accords. She has  _never_ been meant for the political side of anything.

 _All-Fathers give her strength_.

She parts her lips to start, but her mouth runs dry. She tries to stay herself, and digs her fingers into her palms. Words aren't coming. She feels ridiculous.  _Step it up, you fool, you're not a child anymore._

She can do this.

They can do this.

It will be fine.

"I am uncertain how much Heimdall revealed to you about what happened in New York," she says with some uncertainty. People trade glances of slight confusion and Hela wets her lips. Nothing, then. At least he kept the happenings to himself. She shifts her weight, "It has come to my attention that the meeting for peace we were rounded into was an attempt at enslavement."

People gawk openly.

Hela nearly smacks her forehead.

 _Well_ that  _was tactful._

Everyone stares at her, silent, but waiting for an explanation. Where does she even  _begin?_ A slight breath escapes her before she begins to explain with some stumbling. She glosses over what details she can, and condenses the tale into a little more than eight sentences. She doesn't know what she was expecting her fellow Aesir to do, but not...not  _this._

She's barely finished the last sentence before someone draws their sword and points it towards the sky in their rage. "I'LL KILL THIS—THIS " _ROSS_ " FOR DARING TO TOUCH OUR ROYAL FAMILY!"

Other weapons follow the sword, "AYE!"

Hela's stomach clenches when she realizes she  _has no plans to stop them._ She'd  _help._ Norns. Thor takes a step forward and grabs the man's—a citizen that Hela vaguely recognizes to have worked in the stables (stables.  _Fenris._  Her stomach clenches painfully)—arm. "Killing this man won't solve anything." Thor says, his voice is low.

"Ha!" The man argues, "He  _dared_  to harm the name of Asgard and for that, he'll pay!"

Hela squeezes her eyes shut, her mind spinning. This man is not the only speaking, all around her she can hear the outcry raging like the ocean. Is distracting and it's almost numbing:

"THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!"

"It is an act of  _WAR!"_

"They mean to kill us!"

"Gather your shields, men, we march under the banner of Queen Hela Odinsdottir—Mistress of the dead!"

"AYE!"

"They have denied us the rights of any living creature!"

"They mean to destroy us!"

"To battle!"

"Oh, what they mean to do to the  _children!_ "

"We are not science projects for them to experiment their ways on!"

"To  _DEATH_  with them!"

"This is—"

" _SHUT IT!"_ Her voice rings above the others and everyone silences instantly. Every eye lifts to her and Hela digs her fingernails further into her palms. Their faces are enraged. They are prepared to go to war. For  _them._

She breaks skin and feels the warm trickle of blood.

_Focus._

Hela releases a slow breath. "Stop." She says, trying to keep her tone level, but she's not having great success. "War must come as a last solution. We need to deal with this now. Without bloodshed."

"They  _dared_  to insult the heirs of All-Father Odin!" Someone cries out in indignation.

"I  _know_ ," Hela hisses, "but this is beyond  _insults._ They mean to subjugate us, and unless we find something to fix  _that,_ all we're going to do is bathe ourselves in blood. Theirs and  _ours."_ Though she'd be lying if she didn't admit she's not against smacking a few skulls together. More than a few. She sincerely hopes that Ross's nose is broken. Or dislocated. Whatever is more damaging to his facial structure.

Lady Pettidottir, a member from the curia regis, frowns a little and steps forward, "May I speak freely, my Queen?"

Hela gives a slight nod, bracing herself.

"I don't believe that they meant for this to be treaty for peace," she says thinly, "the terms that you have told us of...perishing would be a better mercy."

Hela stares at her, aghast, "You can't seriously be suggesting…"

"I'm not," Lady Pettidottir assures, "but think on it. The  _only_ way we are going to escape this is if we are to die. We are not prepared to wage war—and we do not have the resources we need for that. What are we to do?"

"We take our shields and we fight to our deaths!" Lord Wyson growls from somewhere in the crowd. A chorus of further "ayes" rings out through the crowd. The blood is sticky against her palms.

"No," Thor says sharply, "stop. We do not have the advantage of ground here. Going to war will only be meaningless deaths on our part."

"They are primitive  _Midgardians,"_ a man challenges, "what have we to fear? They haven't seen  _real power."_

"Bah!" Lord Arkenson huffs, "Their weapons cannot harm us. They are pathetic! We can beat them with ease."

"And what then?" Hela challenges, "When we've beaten them back and slaughtered their men, what will we do then? Frighten them into submission for the rest of our lives? War is  _pointless_ here. Lady Pettidottir makes a point."

Thor's expression flickers a little, "Sister, are you suggesting that we  _let_ them slaughter us?"

"Of course not," Hela snaps, her voice a little harsher than she means for it to be, "I'm stating that we  _need_ to disappear. Whether that be a faked death or otherwise, we can't remain on Midgard for any longer."

Her words draw everyone into a solemn silence. Some of the rage within them dies a little as the gravity of this settles again. Their options are limited here, and picking up their shields and marching to war isn't going to fix anything. This isn't Asgard. Bathing someone in blood isn't going to solve nothing.

Loki takes a step forward next to her, his hands drawn up close to his chest. He's picking at his palm again. "We have allies on Vanaheim," he says softly, "King Røkia would offer us refuge."

_Vanaheim?_

Hela hadn't…the idea of fleeing from Midgard completely hadn't...yes, she'd been suggesting along those lines, but not with  _words._ To hear it spoke so clearly is...it's almost sharp. But they can't stay here. Not anymore. Midgard fears them and would rather see them dead than prosper.

She was a fool to think that they could clasp peace for longer than a few weeks.

Vanaheim. She's not certain it would be her first choice (not Alfheim), but King Røkia will help them. He's family. Officially. Frigga's youngest brother. Hela hasn't spoken with him much in recent years, but the relations between Frigga and Røkia were never terrible. But she is not certain if he  _will_ allow them to stay with them.

Vanaheim and Asgard's relationship has always been..."strained" at its best. After the public, brutal murder of her birth mother in their streets, Asgard has never been fond of them. Herself especially. Frigga and Odin's marriage may have helped ease the tension, but there's always been a lingering dislike. And—it. Augh! But if they remain on Midgard, they die. (Culture, physically, does it matter?)

If they leave, the possibility of becoming refugees rises again.

These are  _terrible_  choices.

"There's no way for us  _to_ leave," another council member Hela can't quite place groans in despair, "we've exhausted our sources, Queen Hela, and though Prince Loki is a skywalker—and, mind you, the  _only_ one—he can't hold a portal nearly long enough for  _all_ of us to escape through."

Hela's hands fist.

_Forbannelser._

They were—

_Søren._

Hela hisses out through her teeth sharply, resisting the urge to grab at her scalp and  _pull._ They're losing time. They do not have the time to be arguing about this. ( _Time, time, time, tick, tick, tick—)_  They need  _solutions_ and they don't have one because Loki can't...they can't  _leave_ Midgard because there is no  _way_ for them to evacuate their entire people.

_There is no way._

Not without a ship.

A ship they don't have.

Thor swears under his breath quietly.

"What are we to do!?" A man cries out, "We  _must_ leave if we are not to go to war!"

"How?" Another challenges, "The ship we took here was taken apart to build the first houses. Unless the sorcerer's can put something together in under three hours—"

" _Asinine_!"

"—Then we cannot escape. We're going to have to submit to the United Nations' laws."

No.

She is  _not_ submitting her people to slavery! She'll  _die_ first. She's fought in enough wars to beat Midgard to their knees. She could slaughter them all if she had to. But she  _shouldn't._ Not after Nidavellir. Not again.

"We cannot!" A woman shouts. "They will  _destroy_ us! We should die first!"

"We  _must_ go!"

"Where, you fool!?"

The anxiety threatens to choke her. There is no way out. They're going in  _circles._

"If I might interject—" Loki starts, but he's talked over. The citizens are beginning to build to a panicked hysteria, and Hela can feel herself beginning to follow. She was not made for this. She was forged for war and blood. Not peace and  _running._

The volume is growing and Hela begins to tug at her scalp in her panic.

Stop.

_Stop._

_How do they fix this?_

_They need—_

Glass shatters loudly and everyone silences. Hela turns her head and follows Loki's outstretched hand to his face. He threw something. Glass. Summoned, maybe? The bits of the shards are sparkling in the cloudy sun.

It has, however, effectively captured everyone's attention.

The silence is deafening.

Loki waits a moment longer, and then lowers his hand. He shifts a little beside her and he tucks a stray piece of hair from his face. "Thank you." Loki says simply, and then leans forward a little, "If I may have a moment of your attention...We  _cannot_ remain on Midgard if we hope to avoid a slaughter."

_Yes._

_They know._

_What is his point?_

"But there is no way for—" Someone starts to protest, but Loki lifts up his hand and presses his fingers closed, quieting the woman. Whether it was by her own choice or Loki's sorcery, Hela can't quite tell.

"There  _is."_ Loki counters. Hela stares at him. No, there's not they  _just—_ Loki shakes his head a little and sighs. "Don't you  _get_ it?" At their silence, his jaw clenches a bit.

"And  _what,_ pray tell, Prince Loki, is it?" Lord Arkenson demands, his tone is harsh.

Loki meets his gaze evenly and his head tilts a little, taking another step forward, "You are all well aware that I'm a master at my craft, yes? Because of this, unlike most others, I have no need for a channel, whether it be a weapon or a gauntlet, to wield the power of an Infinity Stone."

Hela's spine tightens.

She smears the blood across her open palms.

_No._

Infinity Stones? Is he  _mad?_ Trusting something that was the  _reason_ Asgard is destroyed? That  _everyone_ gained back what they'd lost except  _them?_  They couldn't use the Time Stone on Asgard. To do so would pull Thanos back from the dead to meet them at the gates.

And Loki wants to use the Infinity Stones to  _save_ them?

This is madness.

Thor's eyebrows meet with confusion. He's quiet a second, and then: "Brother, what are you suggesting?"

Loki wets his lips, "We have an estimated four hours until the U.N. arrives. We don't have enough time to prepare for war, and the other sorcerers and I do not have the time to craft an evacuation ship effectively. I'm  _suggesting_ that we take the Space Stone from S.H.I.E.L.D. and use it to take Resumption to Nidavellir."

 _Nidavellir? Now it's_ Nidavellir _?_

Wait— _steal?_

_Infinity Stones._

He can't  _seriously_ be suggesting that they—

"Are you mad?" Hela demands, "We can't risk using something like  _that_ to help save us."

"King Demor would sooner see us slain that assist," A person pipes up. Female. Hela can't tell where they are in the crowd.

Loki's stance flares a little, "Trust me, I've tasted insanity, I know that I'm thinking clearly. As Lady Pettidottir pointed out, I can't transport everyone here to wherever we decide to go—Nidavellir is closest—not at once. We have four hours. Even if I  _could_ hold the tear open, it result in my death and hundreds left behind. You have little idea the strain it places on my blood. But we need to leave."

"And?" Hela presses. "How do the Infinity Stones play into this?"

"I've worked with the Space Stone before," Loki avers, his hands fisting, "I know how to create and maintain portals with it. It was the only one that the Gaurdian's left here besides the Time Stone, so even if we  _wanted_ to work with something else, we couldn't. If I can get in contact with the Sorcerer Supreme—"

"Stephen Strange signed the Accords," Heimdall points out stiffly.

"I  _know,"_ Loki hisses, "but I have my doubts he won't assist us."

"Assist you with what?" Thor questions.

"Holding the portal," Loki explains, running a hand through his hair, "I  _need_ an assistant if I'm going to be putting hundreds through. I can get us off of Midgard. All we have to do is find the Space Stone and take it. We can be gone before the U.N. gets here."

In four hours?

They have to evacuate everyone in four hours and leave everything they've created and...It...could work. In theory. It is the only option they have left.

Hela turns back to the Asgardians. She adjusts her weight a little, and then meets Heimdall's eyes briefly. "If anyone has further suggestions, speak now or prepare your families for evacuation." Hela says and sweeps her gaze across the crowd.

The Asgardian's wide eyes flick away from her own.

Everyone remains quiet.

Hela nods and closes her eyes briefly for a moment.  _All-Fathers give her strength._ "Then it's settled. We prepare to leave, tell everyone you meet. No one gets left behind. Take only what you need, we'll rebuild."

Again.

The Asgardian's linger for a moment before dispersing to prepare themselves and their families for leaving.

000o000

"You're fidgeting again, you need to remain calm."

"I  _am_ calm."

"Certainly. Breathe deeper."

"It's...too much. I can't...can't...help me."

"Steady. You're doing well."

Hela blows out a sharp breath through her nose and paces the length of the room for the umpteenth time. She is utterly  _useless._ She has little skill in sorcery and the only thing she can do is pace the room back and forth watching her siblings and Heimdall.

The length of the living room in their home has never felt so small.

Hela passes the couch that Heimdall and Thor are seated on, and flicks her gaze towards Loki. Her youngest sibling is sitting on the coffee table, his eyes closed as he rests in a cross-legged position, he's breathing deeply and evenly. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was meditating. It's not.

Astral projection.

He was supposed to get in contact with Stephen, but he started nearly twenty minutes ago. How long does it take to find someone when you know where they live?

Thor and Heimdall...their work is more verbal than Loki's is. Ever since Loki went missing four years ago, Thor has...Hela doesn't want to say "visions", but glimpses into reality. Heimdall suggested that he take up an apprenticeship with him. As Heimdall searches for the location of the Space Stone within S.H.I.E.L.D., Thor is supposed to be helping him.

And Hela stands here.

Looking stupid.

_Three hours, ten minutes._

This time is estimated, it could be much less.

Thor makes a slight noise and Hela glances towards him again, only to see his face settle. "I think…" Thor's frowns a little, "I do not believe it is here."

"I agree, my prince," Heimdall says, "elsewhere, then?"

"Have we tried…?"

Hela tunes them out and sighs, running a hand through her hair. They are really leaving. They  _really_ plan to evacuate. This is...it's almost hard to grasp. Given choice, she doubts that anyone would willingly leave. The transition from Asgard to Midgard was not an easy one.

Another six minutes pass in an almost agonizing stillness before a golden sphere of sparks ripples through the living room. Hela's hand instinctively goes for a weapon, but she forces her hand to stay as Stephen steps through, looking a bit frazzled.

Loki's head lifts and he rises to his feet, smoothing his clothing. He meets Hela's gaze, "I spoke with King Røkia and King Demor. King Demor said that he'd be glad to have us, but Vanaheim washed their hands of our blood."

Hela blows out a breath.

That was nice of them.

Stephen's gaze flicks towards Thor and Heimdall, who are mostly oblivious to his arrival. "What are they doing?"

Hela waves her hand, "Something hard to explain," she barely represses an eye roll at his indignant expression, "How much do you know about the All-Force?" Stephen's eyebrows meet a little. "I thought so. Thank you for coming."

Stephen nods, "Of course. Are your people prepared to leave?"

"Not yet," Hela admits, "It took over an hour to tell everyone our plans. They're supposed to meet in the square in the next hour. Now we just need the Space Stone."

"Do you have plans for taking it?" Stephen questions, "Or do you plan to walk through the front door?"

Hela sighs, "No. We don't need the possibility of someone getting caught before we can leave. Loki is going to get it before we leave."

Not by her suggestion.

But she knows that he'll have the most success and speed.

Stephen's eyebrows meet a little and he glances towards her dark-haired brother, "You're going alone?"

Loki nods, "Yes, but it isn't the first time. How goes your practice with stabilizing neural oscillation?"

Stephen's lips thin, "I have some; telepathy isn't something that I've worked much with."

Loki nods, "I'd expected so. I am capable of wielding the Space Stone for a period of time, but holding a portal as large as we'll need is going to be painstaking. As I retrieve the Stone, work on reading someone's thoughts. I'm sure that Thor will vote as proxy."

Hela raises an eyebrow, and sees Thor's concentration flicker a little at the mention of his name. Stephen huffs a little and folds his arms across his chest, "I'm already breaking at least thirteen rules on the Accords, I'm not having an angry lightning bolt chasing me around."

Loki smirks.

"Worry not. I don't need to chase you to hit you," Thor says and Hela turns towards him. He meets her gaze, "We found the Stone."

000o000

Over an hour later ( _Forty-two minutes until they arrive)_ after Loki has successfully stolen the Stone, she, her brothers, Stephen, Heimdall, and the rest of the Asgardians have gathered in the square. The Asgardian's are fidgeting with their belongings, looking like they would much rather be doing anything else.

She doesn't blame them.

Loki meets her gaze again and she gives him a small nod. Loki looks like he's gnawing on his inner lip before he tugs the Space Stone from his magical cache holding it in the air with sorcery and then glances at Stephen again. " _Steady_ the Stone in my blood, if you touch my thoughts it will be...uncomfortable for you to say the least."

Stephen nods and rests a hand on her youngest brother, closing his eyes. Loki blows out a breath and grasps the Space Stone from the air. His body ripples a little and Hela sees his veins glow with a faint blue light before it passes. His breath hitches and Hela sees Stephen's face tighten with concentration.

This was stupid.

They should just stop—Loki can't handle an  _Infinity Stone,_ she was being crass and desperate. They'll find some other way, she can't let him destroy his mind for—

The thick, black and blue portal forms in front of them and Hela's jaw tenses a little. Loki's breathing has quickened, but she can't see any other discomfort on him. She shifts a little and then look back at the Asgardians.

"Step forward," she commands and moves so she's out of the way, "our time is limited."

The first group of Asgardians shuffle up, looking understandably wary before they step through the portal. It makes no sound and they disappear swiftly and safety. Something in her chest loosens with relief. Encouraged, the people begin to move forward faster.

But it's still not fast enough.

They're on the last thirty people when Hela hears the first helicopters. Norns. She draws her weapons and lifts her gaze up towards the sky, spotting the aircraft lingering. There's over a dozen. A low swear escapes her and she turns to the remaining citizens.

"Go!" She commands swiftly at their terror.

They break into a run, some vanishing into the darkness.

_They need to go._

Ropes drop near their position and Hela sees several U.N. soldiers sliding down the length of cord. She glances back at the last ten or so Asgardians and flicks her gaze towards Heimdall. "Go,  _take them!"_ She commands.

The U.N. soldiers move forward weapons raised, overhead, one of the helicopters states loudly: "Asgard, you are under the jurisdiction of the safety protocol listed in the Accords. Remain where you are or we'll be forced to fire."

Hela's body is tense and prepared for a fight. Thor joins her side with Stormbreaker in hand. Hela can taste the ozone in the air. It's faint, but present.

She backs up behind the Asgardians as they stand still, and then she tosses dark hair from her face, "We're not citizens of Earth, you've made that quite clear. We don't have to follow any of your laws." She says, her voice is a little bitter.

"My Queen, I—" Someone murmurs behind her.

" _Heimdall! Take them and go,"_ Hela hisses in Aardent towards the gatekeeper. He moves forward slowly, carefully aware of the U.N.'s guns. They aren't the usual pistols and even if they were, bullets are not as harmless as they would love to believe.

"Remain where you are or we'll be forced to open fire." The same helicopter announces.

They were so close.

_So, so close._

Thunder cackles overhead and the U.N. members have enough time to look up before a bolt of lighting slams between them and Asgard, blinding her and the other's momentarily. She hears a mad shuffle behind her as the Asgardians run and Thor grabs her shoulders, heaving her backwards.

"Go, go, go!" Thor chants, tugging her towards the portal.

Her vision is still hazy and her ears are ringing. She was not prepared for the bolt, but it likely saved their lives.

"We're almost there," Thor assures, "little further, come on, almost—"

A round of bullets fire from one of the helicopters and Loki lets out a loud cry of pain. "Loki!" Hela gasps, trying to move towards the source. Her vision is still fuzzy, but she can blearily make him kneeling on the ground beside the portal.

A hand is pressed against his side and she can see his blood.

Her vision narrows and she turns her head, flinging a handful of weapons at the helicopter. The engine whines before it begins to go down. Thor drags her forward, but the portal is vanishing.

Bullets begin to break out behind them and Hela ducks for cover, but there's no need. Stephen has thrown up a shield with one hand as he tries to help Loki rise with the other. "Loki!" Hela calls and moves towards his side.

The portal.

They have no way of reaching Nidavellir without Loki and he—

Thor grabs Loki's bloodied hand, his eyes wide, "Loki, you need medical attention, you can't—"

"No," Loki protests, coughing slightly, "It's...well. I'll be fine. It only grazed me. You have to go. Our people…"

"Loki," Hela says stiffly, "please. The shadow paths, teleportation, you can leave. Get out of here. We'll take the fall for this one. Meet our people on Nidavellir."

Loki shakes his head and gives a crooked smile, but his teeth are bloodied, "Forgive me," he whispers and Hela's eyebrows meet with confusion before her mouth opens in horror as Loki's hand wraps around the Space Stone.

"No—!" Thor exclaims before he and Stephen are pulled from the fire-fight with a lurch of blue light. Loki's face twists with pain and Hela ducks a blast of bullets, turning to return the fire for a second. She ducks behind her arm brace as Loki heaves out a gasp. She turns back and grabs his forearm.

"Your sedir supply is exhausted. You're going to kill yourself. Stop. We'll get out of this." She promises, trying to find the stupid Stone amidst the grass and dirt as she keeps the bullets from hitting them with only her sword and braces.

She needs a shield.

She needs that stupid Stone!

Loki closes his eyes tightly, then he mumbles, "No...Just you," and his other hand, the one she hadn't  _bothered_ to look towards, squeezes around the Space Stone again. He convulses as the power ripples through his veins and she feels something tug at her chest.

Magic.

The Space Stone.

_Norns—_

"Loki—!" Hela yells in outrage and panic and has only a second to see the U.N. agents reach her brother before she's torn through the fields of space. Colors swirl past her eyes, spinning and  _spinning_ and making her feel vaguely sick before she tumbles onto solid ground.

Her stomach twists and she barely resists the urge to heave

The ground is hard. It's cold. The smell is thick with ash and blood. Her fists clench and she lifts her head as a dull realization hits her:  _This is not Nidavellir._ It must be a mistake. Loki wouldn't have sent her off somewhere else on purpose. He...the Space Stone reacts on thoughts, which is one of the reasons that Loki needed Stephen to assist.

He needed to focus on Nidavellir.

When he teleported her, his mind must have been elsewhere.

So  _where…?_

The area surrounding her is steal plated with walls. She can feel the dull thrum of an engine beneath her shoes. A ship?

Up.

She needs to get up and figure out where she is. ( _Loki. The U.N. has Loki. She has no idea where Thor is. Loki. Thor. They're—)_ Hela walks for a little under two minutes, trying to gain some of her bearings. She doesn't recognize any of this. This...it...

A clicking noise sounds to her left and Hela draws a weapon, twisting to the find the source. Her body feels strangely disoriented, but she shoves the sensation and her gnawing worry to the side as she stares forward, squinting into the dark.

The clicking noise grows louder.

Hela spins, lifting her sword even with the sound, but sees nothing.

 _She could_  have _sworn that—_

"Welcome Asgardian," a voice whispers over her shoulder, Hela spins, but the source is gone. Her nerves are frazzled and her head is spinning. A hand slams over her mouth and another grabs her arm with a fistful of hair, twisting it behind her back, and then drags her backwards. A muffled yell escapes her and she attempts to get a hold of the situation, but her struggles are fruitless and she can't get  _out._

Her heart is beating painfully against her ribcage.

"We recognize you from the mind of the other," the voice hisses out again and Hela grapples with the hand once more, trying to find the space to bite at it. "You will make a proper avenge for our late master. We heard the tales of the great Queen of the Dead striking the killing blow." She hears the sound of a knife being drawn and her feet stagger a little, forcing her captor to adjust his hold slightly, pulling her briefly under one of the few sources of light.

Hela's blood rushes cold as she sees what's following her.

What  _has_ her.

No.

This—

_No._

She—

Chitauri.

The Other is dragging her elsewhere. And he means to kill her.

* * *

 _"We'll never get free, l_ _amb to the slaughter,_

_Whatcha gonna do when there's blood in the water?"_

_-_ grandson "Blood/ /water"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mpghp. Yup. All I got for you.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Next chapter: ...We'll see. I'm stressed to my ears and so anxious I want to throw up. We'll try for May 3 if all goes well. :)
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your support! You're all amazing! Lots of love and hugs from me to you! =)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annd, early chapter! Again! =D =D =D
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your support! You guys are amazing! =) I love you all and wish I could give you cookies and hugs. :)
> 
> Warnings: Violence.
> 
> Minor spoilers for Cap. Marvel!

* * *

 

A long yell tears through his throat, higher and more painful than he really cares to admit. Thor's hands grapple for purchase against something— _anything—_ before the blue haze around him fades and he and Stephen smack face first onto a hard surface with a loud  _thunk._

His still-tender bones from the collapse a few days ago cry out, and he bites at his tongue sharply to keep himself from making any verbal noises. His head is spinning, but his ears are working enough to pick out the loud grouping of startled swears.

Not Stephen's voice, but he still recognizes them.

Thor whips his head up to look, and his gaze quickly jumps across the familiar features of the  _Benatar_. And the still familiar edge of Nebula's sword pointed towards his face. Despite this, his body slumps with relief.

Loki didn't drop them in the Void ( _but he didn't leave them in Nidavellir either)._ Allies. He's with allies. Even if they all make him want to tear out his hair with frustration at their stubbornness, but they're allies. He needs to get back to Earth.

Hela and Loki are still there and the U.N. is going to—Thor doesn't know what they'll do, but they  _opened fire_ on them. The chance of them dying isn't a slim one and the thought causes his chest to seize with terror ( _Not them. Please. He—)._

"Oh, my gosh!" Peter exclaims, and Thor sees his hand lift from his weapon, " _Thor?_ Don't  _do_ that to a guy. Where the heck did you come from?" He's looking above Thor, for the portal, but he isn't going to find one because Loki dropped them here.

Curse his stupid—

Thor staggers to his feet and sees Stephen do the same beside him, the magician's eyes narrowed. Thor realizes that he and the Guardians of the Galaxy have likely not interacted much. The Guardians showed up when Loki went to Jotunheim to gather the Frost Giants in their last stand against Thanos, and that was after Stephen dumped the Time Stone in their laps.

No one really interacted with the Guardians save himself, Hela, and a few of the Avengers.

Thor lifts a hand out towards him for peace as the rabbit lifts up his gun a little warily, "Who's this, and can I shoot him?"

"No," Thor says firmly, and digs his heels into the ground as his feet sway. Why is he so dizzy?  _The stupid Space Stone_ , "This is Stephen Strange—"

" _Dr._  Strange," Stephen corrects, hands poised for sorcery, "the Sorcerer Supreme."

Drax's eyes narrow a little, "You go by the name of "Strange"?"

"Oh!" Mantis exclaims and presses her hands against her mouth as if to hold back a great secret. "That's strange."

Stephen's eyes roll up to the ceiling in annoyance as Nebula pulls back her blade and mutters "Terrans" under her breath like it explains everything. Thor pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to gather himself together.

Everything feels so frazzled.

Was it  _really_ only this morning that he was standing the the square of Resumption? "I need to get back to Midgard," Thor blurts, staring at the seven of them, but his gaze lingering on where Gamora is standing behind her sister. "I need your help."

"I am Groot?" Tree questions, staring at him confused. ( _Why?)_

_He needs to go back._

_Hela. Loki. He needs to make sure they're okay. He can't—_

Peter shifts a little, staring between the two of them, "Uh, we're pretty far out from Terra."

Gamora elbows him in the ribs and he hisses, making a pained face in her direction as she takes a step forward. "What happened?" She demands, her expression is narrowed and Thor flicks his gaze up towards the woman, opening his mouth, but his tongue suddenly feels heavy.

Far to heavy.

How can he explain everything that has happened these past few weeks?

Thor shakes his head a little, "I…" He looks towards Stephen for support, but the doctor is only watching him. "It's a bit of a long story." He admits and sees the Guardians shift a little. Rocket huffs.

"Sparkly-Butt, we got time."

Twenty minutes, a meal, and some water later, the Guardians are staring at him and Stephen with varying degrees of disbelief or anger. Perhaps a little bit of both. Nebula is the first to regain her tongue and her eyebrows lower. She glances towards her sister.

"We can get rid of Ross easily." She points out, hand fisting.

"Take his butt and kick names!" Mantis assures cheerfully.

Thor's stomach drops as he realizes that Gamora looks to  _actually_ be considering it. "No," Gamora says after a hesitation. "Killing him won't stop anything."

"I don't know," Rocket says carefully, folding his arms across his chest, "I mean, from what I've heard, a good knock of the head could do him some good. Rattle some of that crazy out."

"You don't have to do  _anything,"_ Thor promises, "I just need to get back to Terra." The word is unfamiliar on his tongue, but it isn't the first time that he's used it. Admittedly, he's a little curious if anyone on Midgard is aware how many different titles their planet has.

"Please," Stephen adds at their silence.

Gamora shifts a little and glances towards Peter, "The nearest jump point to Terra is over thirty hours from here."

Thor's stomach drops. No. That's too long.  _Far_ to long. "I don't…" Thor trails, but he doesn't finish his thought out loud.

Peter blows out a breath, "And we don't have enough fuel to get there."

"I  _told_ you that you should have taken the bargain at that last outpost," Rocket grumbles and Peter shoots him a scowl.

"Shut up."

Rocket grins.

"Where can we find more fuel for the ship?" Drax questions, "This fight that Terra is waging against Asgard is unjust and without honour. I do not like it."

"It's not just Asgard," Thor mumbles, but he has his doubts that any of the Guardians are listening to him anymore. Gamora moves to check the computer, likely for the nearest outpost, and Nebula follows after her sister.

Peter drums his fingers, thinking.

Mantis lifts up a hand, "Oh! What if we called Captain Mar'vel? She'd help us!"

"Are you insane?" Rocket demands, "She'd sooner dump us to the side of the road and keep going. You know what a pain in the—"

"Language," Peter reminds without looking at the rabbit.

"—place you know I'm thinking about she is." Rocket finishes with some irritability. "You'd have to be dying at least twice before she'd think about looking at you. And then she'd laugh you into an early grave. That snot."

Captain Mar'vel? Who...wait. Are they talking about the former Captain Vers, the Kree? Thor's brow furrows with confusion and he glances between them for a second, opening his mouth to ask the question, but Gamora loudly yells: "Got it! Nearest post is...great."

"It's that or waiting another twelve hours," Nebula argues.

Gamora stares at her heatedly, "Tell me that you have just as many fond memories as me of that place."

Thor shares a glance with Stephen.

"If you are fond of it, why are you arguing?" Drax demands.

Rocket pats his arm, "Just an expression, buddy."

"Where is it?" Peter questions, shifting a little. Nebula and Gamora turn to look at him, both unhappy. Gamora, after a second, answers: "Sakaar."

000o000

The Other drags her back a few more steps before Hela manages to regain the worst of her frazzled bearings and summons a dagger, drawing her free hand up and digs it deeply into the Other's forearm. A screech of pain escapes him and he comes to a staggering halt. Hela rips free from his grip, twisting out of his reach and draws a sword in either hand, ducking out of the way as one of the Chitauri attempts to jump her.

Avenge. They want to kill her to avenge Thanos.

The thought makes her sick.

There's a little over fifteen Chitauri surrounding her, but after under a minute of battle, they lay dead at her feet. She strides towards the Other, attempting to stem the worst of the bleeding, and grabs him by the throat when he attempts to phase.

""The mind of the other"," she quotes back to him, her voice low. Loki. He was talking of Loki. They  _touched_ the mind of her brother? She thought it was just the Mind Stone. On Asgard doing such without permission is a penalty of  _death._ "You tortured my brother."

Her voice is flat.

It is so indifferent to the rage that is flowing through her veins.

The Other's beady eyes are staring back at her, and he growls lowly. "You killed my master."

Hela laughs and squeezes his neck harder, the Other sputters, "You're welcome," Hela avers, she draws a dagger, "you mewling  _worm._ I should kill you slowly, but I'm a little short on time. Know this: You tempted fate a little too sorely the moment you laid a hand on Loki."

"I—" The Other starts, but Hela shoves her blade through his heart and drops him, kicking his gasping body to the side.

"Rot in Helheim," she mutters under her breath before looking down either side of the hall. There's still no light, but she isn't surprised. The Chitauri have terrible light vision, and it's easier for them to navigate in the dark than anything else.

She, however, was not created to be nocturnal.

She blows out a breath and decides to take a left, walking away from the Chitauri behind her and quietly pleads with anyone listening that this is the right direction. Two hours, twenty minutes, more stumbles and trips than she cares to admit and a few scarce battles, Hela finally comes across the first escape pod.

Her breath slips from her with a slight noise of relief and she maps the location out in her head. If this is the first escape pod and this ship is like the other Chitauri ones that she's been on (it isn't the first time that she's been in contact with them, she and her father drew them out of the Nine before Loki and Thor were born), then the bridge should be on this level, too.

And if she can get to the bridge, she can rig it to explode and be done with these asinine, bigoted, creatures permanently. She lingers for a second longer, and then moves forward to find the bridge. She's stopped by a group of the warriors, but handles them quickly and steps into the bridge with wariness.

She draws her weapons and deals with those present, stepping towards the computer. She was never a technology wizz on Asgard, but even children learn how to use their war ships in the Learning Halls. After some fighting and cursing, she manages to set the timer and tears her way across the ship to get to one of the escape pods before it explodes.

Quietly, the vendetta within her that's been screaming out since last July is satisfied.

Thanos touched her brother.

So she destroyed his army.

000o000

"Touch anything that isn't the fuel and you lose the hand," Nebula promises Rocket, gripping his paw with such intensity that Thor is mildly worried that she's going to snap one of his bones. Rocket huffs and shakes her off, readjusting the pack over his shoulder.

The interaction seems normal between the two.

"Relax." The rabbit soothes, "We're going to get the fuel and leave." He rolls his eyes at her unamused look, "We'll  _pay_ for the fuel and leave. Better?"

Thor sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stay his patience. He has no doubts about the Guardians claims to being "family". They certainly bicker like one. The fact that no one has lost their head is a miracle of itself.

He gnaws sharply in his inner guns and wonders for the first time since they left the  _Benatar_ why he agreed to let Stephen stay behind and go with Nebula and Rocket. If someone gets murdered, Thor is going to let the blame of that fall purely on Peter and Gamora.

Thor ducks out of the way as someone nearly barrels into him, a dirty female, and quickens his pace to catch up to the two Guardians.

"This place is a mess." Thor notes, not bothering to keep any falsified cheer in his voice. Sakaar isn't a planet that he'd  _heard_ of until now, and Thor's teacher made them study the nearby galaxies and their solar systems, which means that it's probably one that suffered from a supernova and lost it's gravitational orbit around it's main star.

It isn't very warm, either, despite the bright lights pointing otherwise.

Mostly, though, Sakaar is overpopulated. Stuffed to the brim with people, and buildings that are build so high that it seems almost lopsided from the structure of the streets. Asgard would never had stood on such disorder. Every building was carefully mapped and planned. This is barely organized chaos.

And, it's ugly.

And filled with so many bright colors.

Are the roads even  _paved?_

This is stupid, but the pessimistic part of his head usually reigns when he's anxious. And, apparently the interior designer one, too.

"Hey! There!" Rocket points to their left from where he's perched on on Nebula's shoulder, drawing Thor from his thoughts. He blinks a little with surprise, trying to figure out when he moved, but can't recall anything.

He's disjointed again.

Great.

"That guy's got a good stack of 'em." Rocket says and Nebula moves in the direction he pointed at. Thor trails after them, trying to calm his messy nerves. ( _Loki. Hela. Loki. Hela. Asgard. Where on Helheim—!?)_.

The man that they've walked up towards is sporting a large beard and small, narrowed eyes. He gives of the general impression of untrusting, and it makes Thor strangely uncomfortable. Nidavellir definitely changed his perspective on facial hair. ( _Stop it. You are High Commander of Asgard's armies now. You've dealt with worse things than bearded men.)_

"What do you want!?" The man barks, shifting forward a little as one hand goes towards his belt, where Thor suspects he has a weapon on hand.

Paranoid, much?

"Whoa, calm down, Prickly." Rocket soothes, "We're here for your fuel."

"To  _buy_ it or  _steal_ it!?" The man says in the same booming tone.

Thor tries to stay his expression, but can't quite help the slight eyebrow raise. Does the man honestly believe that if they were going to rob him, they'd walk up and  _tell_ him they were going to do it. Norns, stop it. They don't have time for this and he needs to  _focus._

"Buy it, geeze," Rocket grumbles, hopping off of Nebula's shoulder, "you keep yelling at us and I might perform the latter."

"What was that!?"

"Nothing important," Thor reassures, giving him a tight smile when the man's eyes lift towards him. His stare is unsettling. Rocket digs through the various items that the man has on display before pointing at one and demanding more of it.

The man grumbles and digs through his supplies to find the indicated item as Rocket dumps two power converters on the counter. "And those." Rocket says, "How much is this going to cost?"

"Why!? You planning to steal it if I don't price it right!?" Thor shares a discomforted look with Nebula at the volume of his voice. It's staggering. Curse his enhanced hearing.

"Oh my gosh!" Rocket throws up his paws, "We're  _not_ going to rob you! Calm down!"

The man  _doesn't_ calm down for the rest of the purchase, and Thor is painfully aware that Nebula keeps a steady hand on her sword the entire time. She looks prepared to grab Rocket by the collar of his shirt and drag him back to the  _Benatar_ at a moments notice.

When they  _finally_ leave the company of the grouchy man, Rocket sighs in relief, stuffing the fuel containers in the backpack that Thor's carrying and climbs onto Nebula's shoulder again, peeking his head above the rest of the crowd.

The street is still lopsided.

Thor can't want to leave.

"Sakaar get a lot of thieves?" Rocket questions, "Because if not, that guy needs some help."

"It's where the slum of the universe come to die." Nebula answers shortly. "Pirates, outcasts, fugitives—doesn't matter."

"So thieves." Rocket concludes.

"Yeah," Thor agrees, suddenly much more aware of how close the crowd is stuffed next to each other. Pickpockets. Thor stares at the people around him a little differently after that.

They're almost back to the ship when the small-eyed man's paranoia proves to be correct. A woman shoves Nebula with force, knocking Rocket off balance long enough for her quick hands to grab something from off his back.

What the—!?

" _Hey!_ " Rocket cries out in anger as the woman dives past them, one of the rabbit's power converters in hand, "Give that back, you nerk!"

The woman doesn't stop, and Thor dives after her, managing to grab her wrist as the crowd attempts to split to not get trampled. As he jerks her to a stop, wild brown eyes meet his and her fist comes up to slam against his face. It's jarring, and she nearly wrangles her way free from him.

Thor blinks back the water from his eyes and dives out of the way of another hit, twisting her arm behind her to pull her out of range of his head. Her ratty black hair falls around her face and her eyes narrow angrily before she shoves the power converter onto her belt and jerks her arm up to  _bite_ at his hand.

Thor's hand pulses with a staggering pain and a cry escapes him as he pulls his hand back sharply. Ow, ow, ow!

Focus!

The woman is scampering through the crowd again and the  _least_ he can do after all the Guardians have given for him in the last few hours is get Rocket's stupid power converters. He pinpoints the dark-skinned woman through the crowd and gathers the energy festered in his core and  _leaps_ into the air.

His shaky attempts at flight will never be Mjolnir, but it gets him over the crowd of people and that's enough.

Thor tackles the woman to the ground and grabs her hands, tugging them behind her back with one hand as he wrangles the power converters off of her and presses harder on her hands when she twists. The pressure on her wrists causes her sleeve to slip and Thor's eyes widen.

No.

That's—

What on the Nine—!?

A cry of frustration and pain escapes her, before she pushes up and shoves him off her, scrambling to her feet in an attempt to run again, but Nebula's fist slams into her face and she kicks the dark-haired woman to the ground, pointing her sword at her.

"Try that again," Nebula dares, the tip of the blade pressing against skin.

Thor stumbles to his feet as Rocket grabs the power converter from where Thor tossed them when he fell back.

There is no way—

He must have been mistaken.

_They all died on Jotunheim._

The woman heaves out a breath and stares up at Nebula with a tic in her jaw. She tosses dark hair from her face, "Go ahead and run me through," she challenges, "not much left for me to go off of anyway."

Thor grabs Nebula's forearm, when she lifts her weapon, "Wait." He commands.

Her eyes lift to meet his own with some disbelief. "I think…" he trails, and then looks towards the woman—the  _Valkyrie—_ again. "That she needs to come back with us."

000o000

"Are you insane!?" The Valkyrie demands harshly from where she's been bullied into sitting by Gamora. "There is no way on Helheim that I'm going with you!"

Thor's fists clench. "You're a Valkyrie." He states blankly. He used to hear tales from his aunt frequently when he and Loki were younger about the honour and the grandeur of the Valkyrie. They were all slaughtered on the Attack for Jotunheim, more than a millennia ago. The dead of the shield-sisters were buried on Midgard by the mortals in gratitude.

It's where the idea of Valkyrie coming to collect the souls of the dead and take them to Valhalla came from.

They're supposed to be heroes.

Good. Honorable.

Not...this.

The Valkyrie looks ready to take off someone's head, and her expression is so thinned with fury that Thor's concerned in the back of his mind (somewhere that's still functioning properly) that she really  _will_ kill someone.

"No, I'm not," the Valkyrie growls under her breath, and her gaze lingers on his face, "leave the dead to rot in peace, oh mighty All-Father."

Thor nearly slams a hand against his eye-patch.

She—

It—

He hasn't—

Stop.

Thor nearly flinches. "It's Thor," he reminds through gritted teeth, "and I already  _told_ you that he's dead."

" _So!?"_ The Valkyrie explodes, "What the heck does this have to do with me!? I'm too sober to deal with your crap."

"You're a citizen of Asgard, and therefore under our protection, and I can't leave you here to rot." Thor points out. (Allies. He's so desperate for them that he's pulling at strings now).

"I'm doing fine for myself," The Valkyrie growls, scowling.

"A wanted thief who defected from the Scrappers?" Gamora counters, looking up from her data-pad, "Grandmaster's got a death sentence on your head, Miss."

The Valkyrie's face pales a little, "Where did you learn that?"

Gamora waves the tablet as Peter snorts behind them, "Lady, my girlfriend is a skilled hacker, and her sister is practically a computer by this point. And this "Grandmaster" isn't one to leave his problems to rest quietly. It wasn't too hard." Peter assures.

The Valkyrie lifts her scowl from Thor to him.

"Alright, enough," Stephen says sharply, "we have a mission, remember? We can't sit here arguing all day. Are you coming or not?" Stephen turns to the Valkyrie, who's fists clench the fabric of her shirt tightly.

"Asgard can help you," Thor prompts, "and what do you have to lose here?"

She's quiet for a long minute.

"You can leave if it doesn't suit you," He assures, his voice hesitant.

The Valkyrie lifts her gaze up, and her palms release. "Fine. You give me somewhere to sleep that isn't the streets and I'll be more than happy to comply, Majesty."

Thor's shoulders slump with relief.

"Great. Love fest over?" Rocket questions, "'Cause Groot and I got the  _Benater_ refilled and we're ready to start heading to the jump point."

_Goodbye Sakaar._

000o000

Forty hours in a ship and a crash later, Hela is knocking on the door and trying not to pound or slump to her knees and curl into a ball of exhaustion. She's only been here once before and it's only because of that that she knew where to go in the first place. If not, she'd still be wandering in the hillside north of here trying to get her stupid phone to get reception so she could use Google's stupid maps. Not that it matters, her phone is dead.

The door opens and the smell of bleach and thick wafts of perfume and sawdust immediately greet her nose. If Midgardians were  _aware_ of the number of smells they present, she's sure they'd try a little harder to quell it.

The woman in the doorway stares at her with wide eyes.

Hela tries not to face plant.

"Hi," she says, and grips the doorframe when she sways a little, "do you have any water I can have? I'm a friend of your husband."

Mrs. Barton's eyes widen a little. "I'm…" she trails.

Hela smiles thinly, but it feels like it's being cut into her skin. "Hela Odinsdottir," she addresses, "Queen of Asgard."

 _That_ gains recognition and a reaction. Mrs. Barton grabs her wrist and tugs her into the house, pulling the door closed behind them. She turns to her swiftly, tossing the rolling pin she had in hand. Her brown hair is falling apart and Hela realizes that's probably later than acceptable to most Midgardians. (Ten PM, Eleven?)

"You shouldn't be here." Mrs. Barton breathes, " _What the heck are you doing here!?_ "

Her tone is one that other people have liked shrunk under, but she doesn't. "I'm a refugee. My planet is destroyed and my people were driven out. I'm  _here_ because it was the only place I could think that  _your_ government wouldn't look for me."

Mrs. Barton's lips thin and she squeezes her eyes shut, "Clint told you where we live."

"The address." Hela offers.

Mrs. Barton shakes her head a little. "I thought that all of Asgard disappeared. Aren't you all hiding out somewhere else on Earth?"

Hela stares at her for a long second before she laughs out loud. "Is  _that_ what the U.N. settled on? Is it  _so_ unreasonable that my people would leave all together?"

Mrs. Barton stares at her, "You mean—"

"The only Asgardians on your planet are myself and my younger brother." Hela answers before she can finish. "Mrs. Barton, I'm sorry to impose, but I need to get in contact with the Avengers. When I can get my brother, we'll leave Earth permanently."

Because that's the only remaining option.

At least they'll still be together on the dwarfen planet.

Norns, she hopes that Loki was thinking clearly enough to send Thor to to Nidavellir.

Mrs. Barton's lips thin tightly before she parts them with some effort, opening her mouth to speak, but both of them still at a voice behind them: "Mom?"

Hela's spine straightens and she turns to look behind her to where a child is standing. Well past young adolescence, but still in the beginning ages of his teens. He's familiar, though, from pictures Hela has seen of Clint's family.

"Honey, you need to go lay down," Mrs. Barton says, her voice considerably softer. "The doctor said that the concussion isn't going to get better if you keep moving around."

The teen ignores his mother, his gaze lingering on her. He's squinting.

"Cooper." Mrs. Barton says firmly.

Hela's mind skids to a halt. Cooper.  _Cooper?_ That's who Clint said was missing and if he's  _here—_ did they  _find_ him? She turns to Mrs. Barton, "Your husband said he was missing."

"A neighbor found him wandering in the woods outback yesterday," Mrs. Barton explains, moving towards her son to likely wave him off towards the living room behind the doorway he's standing in. "His head was a mess."

Hela stares at Cooper, and can see the bandage wound around his head underneath moppy brown hair. Something just...he was in the  _woods_ the entire time? There's animals there. The only thing he got was a head wound? "What happened to his head?" Hela questions.

"We don't know," Mrs. Barton says, "Cooper can't remember anything else since he went missing. The doctor said that the memories may come back and—" Mrs. Barton cuts off abruptly, looking back at her and Hela realizes that she's likely uncomfortable with explaining of this to her.

No matter.

She's long since grown used to distrust.

It, and death, follow her like a shadow.

"Mom," Cooper says, ignoring his mother's fretting with his hair and attempts to shove him back to the living room, "who is she? She's familiar."

"Shh," Mrs. Barton instructs, "you're going to wake your siblings."

"Mom."

"She's...a friend of Dad's." Mrs. Barton says and Hela's eyebrow lifts a little. "Go lay down, please, I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Are we in trouble?" Cooper questions quietly, "Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened, sweetheart." Mrs. Barton says firmly.

"I'm not an angel of death here to condemn your parents," Hela says, keeping her voice low to not wake the other children in the house, "go take care of your head."

"Death-Lady." Cooper blurts out suddenly, "Your the Death Lady. On the Avengers. You worked with them for a few months after the alien invasion and now you're  _here_ which means that something happened to Dad and now were—"

"What happened to Dad?" A young girl's voice asks and Hela whips her head to the right where the sound originated from. A young girl with a younger child's hand clasped in her's is standing in the kitchen. The girl looks close to tears.

" _Nothing_ happened to your father!" Mrs. Barton says firmly, and shoots Hela a frustrated glance, "You need to be in bed!"

"But  _Dad—!"_ The girl starts to wail.

"I'm not here for your father," Hela cuts in, "he's fine." Wherever he is. He's  _probably_ fine. "I'm from Asgard, my only goal here is to  _talk_ to your father."

The children go quiet and stare at her with a newfound interest. "You're from Asgard?" The girl—what on the Nine is her name? Leah? Lucy? Lipp—Lila. It's Lila—questions. "Where'd they all go?"

"Away," Hela answers her, turning to their mother, "I just need a phone charger and thirty minutes if you can spare me that."

And water.

But she's not going to insist on it.

Mrs. Barton hesitates.

"Mom, we can help her," Cooper assures, "I'll go get my phone charger from upstairs." He slips away from her grip and scampers up the steps before Mrs. Barton can protest. Mrs. Barton's hands fist and she sighs, muttering a word that shouldn't be repeated around children under her breath.

She flicks a hand out towards her, "You have an hour. That's it. I won't have the FBI or the Secret Service or whatever it is that's after you bursting in here and arresting me for holding a criminal."

Hela smiles thinly, "I didn't expect anything more."

Hela's herded into the living room a few minutes later by Lila and Cooper with Mrs. Barton watching, Nathaniel in her arms.

When her phone battery is past ten percent, she calls Steve.

She only has to wait a few rings before he answers: " _Hela? Are you okay?_   _What happened? We saw the news about the U.N.'s official report. Loki's in custody. Is Thor with you? Where_ are  _you?"_

Hela blows out a breath, trying to ease the gnawing worry in her stomach. Loki will be fine. It was stupid to hope that he'd somehow gotten away from this. ( _She has no idea where Thor is. She has no idea where all of her family is and the thought makes her_ sick). "Safe place," she answers. It's not detailed, but she can't bring herself to care.

Steve doesn't press.

" _Is Thor with you?"_

"No," she shakes her head and shifts a little when Lila puts a Lego near her foot. She and Cooper are starting something in an attempt to keep the elder awake until his time limit has passed. Concussions.

_She doesn't know where Thor is._

_She doesn't know where—_

" _What happened? And stop being vague, I'm going to put you on speaker. The rest of the team is with me."_

Hela's lips spread into a faint smile, and she explains what she can with children in the room. Steve and the others don't ask many questions as she explains about her decision to leave the U.N.'s offices, and then the scramble to Asgard out of Norway before the U.N. arrived. With Lila and Cooper listening to her story intently (thought trying not to be obvious about it), the Chitauri end up being "fall into enemies hands, and lots of glitter was split".

When she's finished, she questions: "You mentioned my brother was arrested. Where is he now?"

The Avengers are quiet. Too quiet. They don't know or they aren't going to tell her. Hela squeezes her eyes shut and relaxes her fingers, trying to remember that she can't strangle a device and it won't help anything if she does.

"We don't know," Tony admits with some reluctance, "Jarvis has been searching, but we can't pinpoint anything. And technically we're not supposed to. If I were a guessing man, I'd say CARCER V."

Great.

The place this entire mess started last year.

Hela sighs under her breath, gritting her teeth together, "I'm not going to leave him there. When I get him out, we can leave and Midgard will finally be rid of us, as they've made it  _explicitly_ clear that's their deepest desire."

Someone sighs on the other end of the line.

She knows her negativity is clearly unappreciated, but she is just  _done. With. All. Of. This._

"But I can't find him without assistance," Hela admits with some reluctance.

"We're already looking," Bruce reassures, "we've narrowed down some areas, but the world isn't a small place."

"What can I do to help?"

"Stay there. Stay safe. If the U.N. finds you before we can smuggle you off of Earth, things won't be pretty. The Accords have left our hands tied, but we'll help where we can." Steve promises.

Hela sighs under her breath.

She doesn't want to twiddle her thumbs. Loki is  _out_ there and she...she can't do  _anything_  until they find him. There's a lingering silence on the phone and Hela bites at her lip, suddenly reluctant to end the call. Ending the call means that she has to focus on the Barton's, and she's already made a mess of interactions so far.

Norns, she's hopeless at this.

"Have you found Peter yet?" Hela blurts out. She digs her nails into her palms in agitation at how carelessly it was phrased.

There's a careful stillness before Tony answers: "No." His voice is thin, "Cooper showed up yesterday, just lost in the woods, but Peter is...we still haven't found him yet. I just hope that wherever he is, whoever has him knows that I'm going to string them up by their small intestine when we find them."

Mmm. Pleasant mental image.

After a few more traded words, Hela ends the call and sighs, tipping her head back with frustration. She feels  _exhausted._ She wants to sleep. Lila and Cooper are arguing softly about how the layout of the wall should be, and Hela is suddenly filled with a pang to be so young an ignorant.

She's not a child anymore.

She hasn't been for a long time.

A water bottle is slammed onto the desk she's seated at and she jumps with surprise, turning to look up at where Mrs. Barton is standing, phone in hand. Her lips are pursed. "You asked for water," she reminds. Hela doesn't make a move to take the bottle. Mrs. Barton sighs, "Clint and Natasha texted me. Clint recognized Lila and Cooper's voices in the background and Natasha apparently put two and two together. They want me to let you stay here. I'm not going to kick you out."

Hela stomach loosens and she's filled with a sudden relief. She meets the woman's eyes. "Thank you, Lady Barton."

Mrs. Barton flinches, "Laura," she corrects, "please."

Hela gives a slight tired nod, and takes the water bottle from Mrs. Barton's hands.

000o000

He hasn't slept more than a few sparse hours since they left Resumption. He's been here for three days, and some span of hours that he hasn't bothered to keep proper track off. His entire left side is stinging from where the worst of the bullets grazed him during Asgard's escape so many days ago, but the pain is not as sharp as it was before. His sedir...his sedir is a different story. It's still sharp and painful when he attempts to touch it, and the staggering ache makes him shy away from it.

He was a fool to strain it so much.

He hasn't felt this drained since he was a child.

All his energy is drained from the usage. He's going to poison his blood if he doesn't sleep, or drink water, or eat or do  _something_ to replenish the gnawing ache in his chest.

Days.

Three.

Focus.

 _(Tired)_.

He's been here for three (four? six?) days, and it's because of this that his gaze merely flicks towards the door when it opens again. Perhaps the seventh agent to visit him since his arrival. He hasn't slept since then ( _not allowed, and he is exhausted),_ and his desire to groan is strong.

He doesn't.

He bites his tongue and draws his shoulders together, trying to brace himself for the interrogation. He doesn't understand why they, without fail, believe that they can draw this information from him.

He is not going to talk.

No amount of yelling at him is going to solve that.

The agent steps into his line of sight and a part of his brain that it's exhausted and pleading for the opportunity to  _sleep_ instantly recognizes him to be Agent Corvek. The blond takes a step forward and takes a seat at the other end of the pale gray desk. This room is hardly above gray and Loki feels vaguely sick.

He wants to vomit.

All over the clean table and the steel gray floor.

"Good evening, Mr. Odinson," Agent Corvek greets. His tone is even, but Loki can hear the gathering of patience in his tone. Loki doesn't look towards him, flicking his gaze up towards the ceiling and letting it remain there. Agent Corvek can talk his head off as the others have done, the information that Agent Corvek gains from him will.

Will.

Will what?

Be not helpful.

No, that's not the proper phrasing. Grammaring? Grammar? Gram-mar. Why did they split the word there? That's odd. It's not grammaring. That doesn't sound familiar. Then again, he didn't speak much English growing up in the palace, and grammaring (no, stop, it's  _not_ grammaring) was—

Agent Corvek asks a question.

Loki doesn't process what it is, and he doesn't feel to horrible about it.

He stares at the wall, trying to determine if they painted it. He doesn't think so. It's not smooth enough for a fresh paint coating, and the gray is a little to dimmed from wear for that to—

Focus.

He's tired.

He wants to sleep.

Agent Corvek says something else.

His shoulders are  _aching._

_Waatteeer._

_Water. Water. Water._

He wants...stop.  _You are not a child anymore._ (Home, he wants to go home).

The slap is sharp and sudden, more surprising than painful and Loki's head whips to the side, his teeth biting sharply onto this tongue; blood wells in his mouth with alarming speed. His lip has split from the force and Loki realizes with a slight jolt that Agent Corvek must be more desperate than the others.

It isn't the first time that he's been hit in the last three days, but typically there was a warning. Anger. Frustration. A raised voice.

This time, there was nothing.

Loki's eyes narrow a little.

"Do you suppose this to be a game?" Agent Corvek questions him, his tone is harsh. Loki's jaw clenches a little and he wipes the blood away from his mouth with his tongue, turning his head towards the agent and trying to keep the sudden desire to laugh out loud to himself. Laughter? He can feel it  _bubbling_ in his chest and his stomach twists with unease. His chest seizes as he withholds the feats of giggles.

This isn't amusing.

_Stop laughing._

_Sleeeeep._

Agent Corvek slumps a little on the other side of the desk, and Loki narrows his eyes with frustration. Agent Corvek studies him for a few more seconds, then assures with the same stupid comforting tone that all the others have used: "This needn't get unpleasant, Mr. Odinson."

Oh, hilarious.

It is  _well_ beyond unpleasant. ( _Sleep. Please. Water. Something. He is drowning in his mind and—water. The thirst is BURNING, SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP—)_

Agent Corvek gives a thin smile and Loki's desire to hit him grows a ten fold. He rotates his wrists a little and the sharp pain that shoots through his shoulders is a welcome distraction from his rapidly spinning thoughts.

Spinning.

Spinnnnning.

Round and round and round and round—

_Focus!_

Loki sweeps his gaze across Agent Corvek, gathering in details that he missed on a first glance. His suit is ruffled, suggesting that he's been working for several long hours. There's a recent coffee stain on his sleeve, and the way that he's sitting suggests that he wasn't expecting this assignment. His hand doesn't bare Midgard's strange ring-obsession association with marriage. Single, then? Barely in his early thirties and working for General Ross as his secretary.

And now an awful interrogator.

(Amusing. Pathetic how it is that he's trying. No. Wait. That makes no sense. He needs to grammaring better. Be grammaring better. Grammaring.  _(Stop, we agreed that it wasn't a real—))_

Agent Corvek leans back in his chair and exhales softly, "Perhaps we've been going about this all wrong, Mr. Odinson. You need more incentive—what's in this for you? Yes. I can see that. We only want the location of where you sent them and then you can leave. You can just walk away from all of this. Just the location. Nothing more."

This is really what he thinks will make Loki talk? Bribery?

( _If they would offer him sleep, he would spill the secrets of_ anything  _they wanted. Asgard's location, the All-Force, the hidden passages in the palace—anything. Just sleep. And water. Sleep.)_

"No then?" Loki can see Agent Corvek's patience slipping, and he'd be a liar (he is, he lies through his teeth  _all the time)_ to say that it doesn't satisfy. He'll be running off in frustration soon enough. "Life hangs between your hands, I'll have you recall, Mr. Odinson. Where  _are_ they?"

Life.

Between  _his_ fingers?

Agent Corvek must be far more stupid than he first took him for. ( _Sleep, please. He can't—)_  Loki leans forward a little and raises his head, swallowing along his dry, painful throat. He wets his split lips, but his voice is so hoarse he hardly recognizes it as his own as he says: "Take it from my corpse, Agent."

There.

That's pointed, yes?

He'll die before he talks.

Sleep.

Please.

Sleep.

He wants—he needs—

"Ooh," Agent Corvek murmurs under his breath, and then tilts his head towards him, "are you certain that you want to be making that offer? We are more than capable of doing so."

And the only people who will lose in that instance is the U.N., not  _him._  Thor and Hela are safe. He...thinks. He's not sure. His mind was a frazzled mess when he teleported them, jumping between pain and panicking thoughts that he honestly can't recall if he  _sent_ them all to Nidavellir.

Speak.

He said something.

A threat.

A crass threat.

He shifts forward, trying to keep his posture straight, but not finding great success. (Sleeeep), "There is  _nothing_  you or your organization can do to compel me into speaking the location,  _Agent._ "

Agent Corvek smirks. "Well, Prince Loki, I wouldn't say that, we'll find something. We always do. We're going to find New Asgard, and whether or not you tell us where it went is going to determine how much mercy they get. Tell me, how much more death do you want to be responsible for?"

Find it.

They...think that Loki put Asgard somewhere else on Earth. They think that they can still  _claim_ it.  _Ignorant fools._

Loki stares at him for another moment, and then tilts his head. A slow smile spreads across his lips that appears to unsettle Agent Corvek greatly. Loki shifts his feet, "Do you really think that you're going to find it that easily? A few words and I spill everything to you? Shall I give you longitude and latitude coordinates?"

Agent Corvek stares at him. His jaw is working.

_Sleep._

_Sleeeeep._

Loki sighs a little, "Hmm." He flicks his gaze towards the security camera in the corner and smirks a bit, trying to bury his rouse if exhaustion, "I put it into orbit. Check your skies for our floating city. No—no, that can't be right. I must have sunk it. Sent it off to another planet? Did I burn it? I can't remember, so sorry, the lack of sleep really is catching up with me. I think that I must have sent them off to Kansas. Australia? Up towards—"

Agent Corvek slams a hand on the table, "Stop lying! _Where is your stupid city!?"_

Loki pauses, and then leans across the table, trying to ignore the ache in his shoulders. "Do you really believe I'm going to tell you?"

"You  _will!"_

"Well," Loki says cheerfully, but he keeps his face blank, still, ( _sleep. Water. Sleep. Water—)_ "you would do well to remember, then, that manipulation is much more than establishing a common ground and building trust, Agent. I could play this game with you for hours and walk away victorious. You're surrender is inevitable."

Loki doesn't speak for the rest of the session, and Agent Corvek leaves, fuming.

He quietly smirks to himself inwardly, and tips his head back, trying to give his eyes a rest.  _(Water. Please)._ He's not certain when he slipped into the doze, but he jerks awake with a jump as the door is opened yet again, this time by masked men (five, at the least) step into the room. A wariness slips through him and Loki instinctively reaches for his sedir, only to rear backwards as it hisses away from him.

The Space Stone's use drained him more than he thinks he can track.

It burned him.

One of the agents grab his hands and release the chains. Loki's hands drop to the desk, limp as a fish out of water and he bites at his tongue to quell his embarrassment. He attempts to lift his arm, but finds that action sends waves of sharp pain up through his nerves. Another of the guards twists his hands behind his back and Loki feels the cold weight of cuffs rest against them.

He drags him to his feet. "Move." The voice is harsh.

Loki's eyebrows furrow a little.

Why is...he's moving now. ( _Now moving_ _. Stop doing that)._

He's shoved forward brutally, and he staggers a step, sending a scowl towards the agent and wishing that his upper body wasn't numb and his sedir wasn't shying away from him (burning, stinging, hiding). If he had feeling in either, he would tear them apart.

As it is, he's dragged through the halls with guns raised towards his chest.

The threat is clear, and his desire to be shot again isn't very high.

He walks for a little under four minutes before they stop in front of a door (cell, labeled twenty-three) and a guard flashes his card in front of the keypad. It blinks green and Loki twitches his fingers, trying to determine if he could pickpocket him.

His arms burn with sharp muscle twitching.

No, then.

He's ripped from his thoughts as he's thrown forward. Loki stumbles into the cell and barely manages to keep himself on his feet. His shoulders are burning, but he bites at the desire to cry out and scowls behind him as the door is slammed close. Any remaining light is stolen and Loki clenches his jaw tightly and resists the urge to face plant.

He is so tired.

_His chest is burning._

He hisses out a sharp breath and sighs under his breath.

Alright.

_Breathe._

He can do this.

He twists his wrists in the cuffs before surveying his surroundings. The cell isn't large, but certainly bigger than some others he's been privy to. There isn't any windows, or a source of light beyond the thin cracks in the door. It's dark and doesn't smell very pleasant.

And there's someone else in the room.

Loki turns slowly, lifting his head up where his sedir is drawing energy from the other aura. As his gaze slowly makes out a figure on the ceiling, the person shifts a little, seeming uncomfortable. Loki takes a step back and squints.

The ceiling.

They are  _attached_ to the ceiling.

How…?

The only person that Loki has heard has anything  _near_ that ability is...Spider-Man. Loki's eyes widen a little. Tony mentioned that his adopted son went missing some days past, but Loki has barely thought about it given everything else that happened.

Loki licks his lips a little and decides to take his chances ( _what has he to lose?), "_ I have no plans to harm you, Peter." He says quietly.

The figure on the ceiling shifts again, and there's a moment of silence before they drop from the ceiling in a low crouch. Loki holds himself stiffly, prepared to take defensive action if the need arises. The young man rises to his feet and Loki hears a slight exhale.

"I have no idea who that is." The voice says firmly. Loki's stance relaxes considerably as he recognizes the voice to indeed be the young spider's. He blows out a slight breath and resists the sudden bizarre urge to laugh.

"My apologies," Loki says and takes a step forward, squinting into the dark to see him better, "I believe I mistook you for someone else, then, Spider-Man."

Peter's shoulders slump a little. "Do I know you?"

"Not well," Loki assures and moves past him, scouting around the cell with his feet. "I work with your parents on a freelance basis."

"...Which job?" Peter questions.

Loki glances back at him, "I am Loki, of Asgard, and, the Avenging one."

"Oh," Peter breathes.

Loki finishes his scoping before moving forward, ignoring the sudden dizzy spell that hits him and inquires: "Are you well? You've been missing for over nine days now."

_Nine days?_

_Has it really been so long?_

_It must be nearly August by now._

Peter blows out a breath and rubs at the back of his neck, "I'm...I'm okay. Have you seen Cooper? He was with me until a few days ago—they took him and I really don't know what they did, I mean, I tried to ask, but no one was talking to me and I think that they're mad about something, but I still can't tell what. What they're mad about, that is. I mean, from what I've been able to gather, everyone was gathered for a big meeting and they took me because they were trying to get the Avengers to sign, but then they wanted  _me_ to sign some sort of paper and I-I was like, "heck no" and—"

"Spider," Loki interrupts as Peter's voice grows considerably more panicked and high-pitched the further he rambles. " _Breathe."_

Peter inhales thinly, "Wait—You've seen my dad," he says, backtracking on their conversation.

Loki tips his head. "And?"

Peter moves towards him and Loki is hit with a sudden dizziness that he can't quite keep under control. (His sedir. He needs to replenish his energy because he's going to—) His feet threaten to give out and his vision blurs excessively. He blinks several times. What is he doing here?

Here?

He…

Tired.

He's still tired.

Still?

Was he tired before?

Yes.

No?

_Focus._

"Is he okay?" Peter questions, "He and Mom were—whoa, are  _you_  okay?" Peter questions as Loki sways and it's only the teenagers hands that grab at his upper arms that keep him upright. His shoulders burn at the touch, but he ignores it to the best of his ability.

The adrenaline.

He lost the adrenaline.

He hasn't slept in...a long time. (His sedir, he needs to replenish the—) Hours upon hours, but he…He squints at the spider, trying to focus, but it isn't coming. "I think…" Loki trails, and feels his weight slump further. Tony's son is speaking rapidly to him in tones that Loki's mind doesn't bother to translate into anything but background noise. "That I'm thirsty." Loki murmurs and collapses forward, unconscious.

* * *

_"This is the start of how it all ends."_

-Lorde "Yellow Flicker Beat"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd, we have officially caught up to the beginning scene! =D Whoop!
> 
> I bet that I had most of you thinking that something awful would happen to Hela, but I mean, guys, she took out nearly all of the Einherjar on the Royal Grounds in under two minutes.
> 
> Anyway. Okay. Um. Yep.
> 
> It was my goal to finish this story before Endgame, and I did, so the final chapters are going to be posted today, too. Thank you guys so much for all the support that you've given me-it's meant the world to me! =) You're all amazing! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings; Violence, some gore.

* * *

 

"You're sure that you don't want us to assist?" Peter questions behind him for what must be the twelfth time in the last five minutes. Thor sighs and looks back at the Guardian, sharing an exasperated look with Stephen. He finishes adjusting the straps to his armor and wishes that Stormbreaker had been brought with him when Loki teleported them.

It would have made this a great deal easier.

A summon of the Bifrost and he and Stephen would have been back on Asgard days ago. ( _Days. It has been_ days).

"Yes." Thor assures and gives the man a shoulder pat, "We have this covered, all I have to do is find Loki and Hela, then we'll leave. There's not much else that needs to be done."

Peter looks hesitant, "I mean, yeah, that's true on a technical term, but what if something else happens?"

Thor shakes his head. "This isn't my first rescue mission, Starlord," he reassures. The particular incident when he lost Mjolnir to Alfheim's giants comes to mind, but it's not one that any of them like to dwell on too much. "If the need arises, I'll contact you." Thor reassures.

"You better." Gamora threatens, but her face is gentle, "Tell your siblings I say hi."

"I will," Thor assures and looks back towards where the Valkyrie and Stephen are standing side by side. "Are you ready? The  _Benatar_ can only stay here for so long before the defense planes arrive."

"Yeah, yeah," The Valkyrie grumbles, turning on her heal and storming down the ramp, "the government is crap. Let's get on with it."

She's fun.

Lots of fun.

Thor glances at the Guardians, "Thank you for your assistance. It has meant a great deal to me."

"Don't ask for it again!" Rocket calls out from the cockpit, "I hate helping blonds."

Peter's face flickers with confusion before he looks back, "Hey,  _I'm_ blond!"

" _That's_  why I hate helping blonds." Rocket affirms.

Thor barely represses a laugh and dips his head in a nod once more before turning and striding down the cockpit with Stephen following after him. They've no sooner stepped onto the landing pad of Avengers Tower than the  _Benatar's_ wings unfold and the ship powers up, shooting off into the sky. Away from Earth,

Thor inhales the scent of the thick, muggy air of New York and flicks his gaze across the deck. Steve is standing near the doors, arms folded across his chest and expression hard to make out. Thor isn't very surprised that he was waiting for them.

As they get closer, Steve gives a slight dip of his head in greeting. He lifts up his phone, shaking a little, "You're late."

Thor stares at him, "I'm sorry?"

Steve's expression flickers with a teasing smile, "Hela called about twelve hours ago."

What?

Is she okay?

Is Loki with her?

Did they manage to escape the U.N., then?

Thor stares at him confused, and Steve's gaze lingers on the Valkyrie before waving them back towards Avengers Tower, "C'mon, we'll catch you up to speed."

000o000

Ten minutes later, Thor is standing the lab with the rest of the Avengers, Stephen, and the Valkyrie around him. The explanation was clipped, and how pressed for time they are is prominent. They don't have the space for mindless chatter.

The window is closing.

Thor needs to pick up his siblings, grab the stupid Space Stone,  _again,_ and leave.

It all seems so simple in his head.

"Alright," Steve says, drawing him back to the present. The super soldier, with the help of Jarvis, has pulled up a 3D holographic image of some sort of prison. Not an unknown prison to him, though, because he spent  _hours_ studying it last year when he was figuring out how best to break Bruce out of CARCER V. "This needs to be fast, it needs to be clean, and the less we can reveal it was us, the better."

"You sure you don't want the jail time?" Tony quips, but his stance is serious as he stares at the building. Steve ignores him, rotating the prison around, lips pressed together tightly.

Thor frowns a little as he sees that they've updated the security since the last time he was there. There's more turrets and the amount of men appears to have increased. The layout is still the same, but that doesn't mean that they  _know_ which cell Loki is in. Or, as Tony's research provided, Peter. The thought disgusts him. They would sentence a  _child_ to stay here? Thor spent weeks there. It isn't exactly an island getaway.

Steve strokes his fingers against each other and makes a face before glancing towards the Valkyrie, "Do you know what the Space Stone looks like?"

The Valkyrie shrugs, looking up from where she's gnawing on food that Natasha offered her a few minutes earlier. "Probably blue."

Thor nearly facepalms.  _That's_ helpful.

Steve nods, apparently coming to same conclusion. "It is. Blue, I mean. The prisoner block isn't small, and we need to cover as much ground as possible as fast as we can, but it isn't empty. Teams of two, at least."

That leaves under four teams. The fastest they can search the entire cell blocks will be under twenty minutes. That's more than enough time for CARCER V to call for reinforcements, or get the U.S. military involved, or  _call the Avengers_ who are  _supposed_ to come for a crisis like this, and if they aren't there, people are going to put two and two together.

And Thor doesn't want to trade Loki's freedom for the Avengers and Stephen's.

 _Augh!_ This is starting to look impossible!

"This is why you should store  _all_ your data online," Tony grumbles, "then hackers know what part of the base to damage. Who keeps their prisoner log by hand now, anyway? It's 2019."

"Smart people keep paper records," Natasha points out, leaning forward, "do we know where the Space Stone is?"

"Roughly," Steve says as Tony makes so-so motion with his hands.

"You can teleport, right?" Natasha questions Stephen, who gives a slow nod.

"But only if I've been there before. You have to have a clear image of where you want to go, or...problems occur." Stephen says and Thor nods with agreement. Yeah, he's heard Loki rant about the space-time continuum or something like that enough that he's come to realize that teleportation is a lot more than just snapping your hands and ending up where you want. There's a great deal of equations involved and it's one of the reasons that Loki is constantly scribbling math notes all over everything.

"And you haven't been inside of CARCER V yet." Clint sighs. "So we can't just dump him and Grumpy Tattoos over there in the middle of the base to collect the Space Stone."

The Valkyrie scowls at him, and throws one of the screw drivers on Tony's desk towards Clint's head. Clint ducks and makes an indignant noise towards the woman. Thor steps between the two of them before an entire brawl starts.

"Not now," he pleads.

"But later?" The Valkyrie demands, hand fisting. "My name is  _Brunnhilde_ , you moran, not Grumpy Tattoos."

Thor stares at her.

_Brunnhilde._

Truly? She was the lieutenant to the captain of the Valkyries. Her name has been praised and remembered on Asgard for more than a millennia for leading her small legion to attack and kill Laufey's brother. The mission ended in death on both parties hands.

Brunnhilde.

Thor clicks his teeth together when he realizes that his jaw has slid open a little, and turns his head away from her in embarrassment.

"...right." Steve says, drawing their attention back to the holograph, "We'll need something to draw the guards away from the prison blocks. Any ideas?"

"We could blow something up," Bruce offers. All of them stare at him silently. Bruce's stance tightens a little. "Hear me out: I don't mean that we go blowing up a manhole cover or something, but they have that electric fence on the outside, remember? Thor can over power it or something and then they'll be concerned on an attack from the outside of the building while some of us sneak in. We can leave Hela and Thor outside, the U.N. knows that they're coming anyway."

Fair point.

Steve's head tilts a little in agreement, "Alright. Brunnhilde and Stephen have Infinity Stone duty. The rest of us will sneak in during the distraction here," he points towards the back entrance, "and search the cells until we find Peter and Loki. Nat, Tony, you pair up and take these halls; Clint, you and I will search these levels here. Bruce, we can't risk a Code Green, I need you as a lookout."

Bruce nods.

Steve looks between them, "Is everyone okay with that?"

Brunnhilde raises her hand and Steve dips his head, "Yes?"

"Does anyone have a sword I can borrow? I'm a little short on weapons." She sends a pointed look in Thor's direction and he lifts up his hands in slight surrender. They didn't have the time for her to collect them from Sakaar.

"My sister can provide you with something," Thor assures.

Brunnhilde makes a face. "Great."

Thor turns to Tony, "Do you have a phone I can use? I'll call her and explain our plans before we arrive to pick her up."

Tony tosses him the requested device, "Sounds good. And tell Hades that she should probably stop building Lego towers with Lila and Cooper. Laura has been texting Clint restlessly about it."

000o000

"Mr. Loki?" Peter's voice is quiet and Loki blinks his eyes open a little, flicking his gaze in the general direction of where the teenager is present. He's sitting with his legs tucked up next to his chest, watching him. He has been since Loki woke up an hour (two, three? Ten minutes? Time is impossible to tell in this darkness).

"Mmm?" Loki questions.

"I just wanted to see if you were still awake." Peter says softly.

Right.

Loki props himself up on his elbow with some effort between the cuffs, looking towards the young teen. "What is the problem, Spider?"

Peter's hands wring anxiously. "Do you think that we'll ever get out of here?"

Loki squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back. It's...hard to say. Loki likely won't. Not unless someone comes to claim him or he dies. But Peter is...young, he doesn't foresee the U.N. keeping him here for much longer.

But he never imagined them doing  _this_ either. The anxiety builds in his stomach, and his mind reaches towards his sedir to soothe it, only to have staggering pain ripple through his hands. Loki coughs and sits up completely, tasting blood.

Curse Midgard's cuffs.

Every time he reaches for his sedir, the pain gets worse.

He knows that it's intentional, but  _how_ they accomplished such a task is beyond him.

Peter's hand rests on his shoulder and Loki tries not to flinch, but doesn't find great success, "You need to stop doing that, Mr. Loki," Peter says quietly, "it's getting worse."

Loki stifles a frustrated yell. "I know," his voice isn't as even as he'd hoped for, "but it's like trying not to breathe."

Peter frowns. "I don't think...I don't think that they should have left the cuffs on."

Seconded.

"Then I would have left," Loki points out, wiping stray blood from off his mouth with his joined hands, "and that would have so ruined their plans."

"What do you think they want?" Peter questions, releasing him at last and sitting down, still playing with the edge of his shirt again. Nervous habit. Peter plays with his clothing when he's anxious.

Loki shakes his head, "Your guess is as fine as my own. I'm uncertain as to the purpose of their aggression."

"They lost a bet?" Peter offers. His attempt at humor is weak, but Loki appreciates it nonetheless.

"Mmm. Wouldn't have wanted to be present in that game," Loki notes.

Peter huffs weakly, and then he sighs. "I miss my parents," he admits quietly, "I want to go home."

Loki does to, but he can't.

Not anymore.

Midgard has never been Asgard, and it won't ever be.

"I'm sorry," Loki offers, "you'll see them soon." Peter doesn't look like he believes a word of that, and Loki can't blame him.

They spend the next several hours in the dark, scattered bits of conversation split between the space of time. Loki's exhausted mind is slipping back towards sleep when Peter suddenly jerks upright, his hand going up to his head.

Loki squints and sits up, "Is something wrong?"

"No—I just, something's coming." Peter says, squeezing his eyes shut with what looks like pain. "There's—can you hear that?"

What?

Hear what?

Shut  _up_ you idiot and  _listen._

Loki quiets his breathing and strains his ears, picking up the faint sound of rapidly moving footsteps and what appears to be battle. His stomach leaps with hope, and he stuffs it back down. It's not going to be a rescue.

He's had far to many conveniences as it is.

Loki scrambles to his feet nonetheless as the sounds get progressively louder, "Spider, get behind me," he commands.

"But I—"

" _Peter."_

The teenager shifts behind him. Loki's stance tightens and he braces himself for an attack nearly a minute later as the door at last snaps open then off, and slams into the far wall behind them. Peter jumps a little and Loki raises his interlocked hands for a shield, then his eyes widen as he sees the familiar glow of the arc reactor.

The Iron Man suit.

Tony.

What on Helheim is he—!?

The suit dismantles and Tony stumbles out as Natasha slips into the room beside the multi-billionaire, her hair drawn up as she raises her guns, staring behind them. Tony moves forward, "Peter!"

"Dad!" Peter exclaims with relief and rushes forward, nearly plowing the older man over in his desperate hug. Tony grips him tightly, running a hand through his messy hair.

"It's okay, it's okay," Tony murmurs into his hair, "I've got you."

The teenager makes a noise that sounds like a strangled sob of relief.

Loki moves forward, his eyes wide and trying to process this.  _The Avengers signed the Accords._ What are they doing here? They're going to get themselves thrown in prison. Or executed, or—whatever else the U.N. deems fit to shove onto them. "Retirement", but is  _death_ considered a retirement plan in their view point?

"You shouldn't be here." Loki states blankly to the Widow.

Natasha looks back at him, brow raised. "Probably not." She agrees and fires at something in the hall.

"I don't...I don't understand," Loki fumbles out, and bites at his tongue sharply. Weakness kills. Admitting a lack of knowledge is weakness and he has already spent enough time being a liability.

Natasha squints into the hall before turning to look back at him, grabbing his wrists and staring at the cuffs, her lips thinned. "That's going to take some work," she notes, her voice a little above a sigh. "It'll have to wait."

There's a loud crash outside of the hall and Loki flinches a little, ducking despite himself. "What was that?" Tony slips back into the Iron Man suit from the corner of his eye, but he's still speaking to his adopted son.

"Your brother," Natasha answers and grabs his forearm, pulling him forward towards the hall. His thoughts skid to a halt. Wait. No. It  _can't_ be Thor because Loki sent him to Nidavellir and the  _only_ way that that could have failed is if Loki...didn't...and that would mean that he didn't get Hela to Nidavellir either.

_Forbannelser._

Tony and Peter step into the hall behind them, and Natasha lifts her guns out in either direction before move towards their left. She presses a hand against her ear, "Cap? We got the Fabricator and Asset Silkspinner."

Someone else says something else on the comms, but Loki can't make out what it is completely.

She pauses, "No, nothing major. Over."

"We're golden, party goose," Tony says and pushes Peter forward gently, "let's blow this popsicle stand."

000o000

Murphy's law is something that Hela has become painfully familiar with the last few days. It hasn't been on her agenda to have  _so many_ failures, but it has happened nonetheless. The plan went well until it didn't.

She and Thor easily provided the destruction that the Avengers needed to get into the building. But out? Out is a different story entirely. Natasha and Tony confirm that they have Loki and Peter and everything goes downhill from there.

Bruce loses surveillance and the Avengers are running blind through the building as Hela and Thor try to keep everyone  _out_ of it without destroyed it. Under her direction, Stephen and Brunnhilde take the Space Stone and flee.

Loki can't use it anyway, so retreat to somewhere is their biggest concern.

The Avengers are quickly overwhelmed and Hela and Thor are called into the building for backup, and meet them on the stairs of the second floor. Thor casts lightning onto the floor, throwing a dozen agents away from them.

Hela comes to a stop next to Steve, flicking her arm up and down rapidly to block the array of bullets fired towards them. Steve ducks beneath his shield and glances towards her with a grim smile, "You good?"

Hela glances towards where Loki and Thor are fighting side by side with an array of flashing daggers and swords, both originally her's. "Well enough off. Outside is swarmed. You have a plan "B"?"

Steve shakes his head, throwing his shield forward, "Didn't get that far. We don't have anymore backup unless we want to chance it with S.H.I.E.L.D.."

Not a great deal.

Hela flings a dagger towards an approaching soldier and she and Steve take a step forward, they're making advancements, but it's slow. An arrow sails over her head before Clint and Natasha join her left. "Cap? I'm out of ammo," Clint says and snaps his bow, flipping it to a staff.

"Great," Steve mutters under his breath. "Bruce? Any updates?"

The comm in her ear remains quiet.

Steve's face stretches with worry. " _Bruce?"_

"Jarvis can't get a hold of him," Tony says a little breathlessly, "the Quinjet is empty. I think they got him."

Hela's jaw clenches tightly and she swears under her breath.

A door to their left opens and a dozen or more agents join the fray. "We got incoming," Steve says and breaks into a run across the room.

"Who's going to find Bruce?" Tony demands, "I'm a little tied up at the moment."

Hela dives towards a group of agents and works rapidly against their slower reflexes with her weapons, "It has to wait." She grits between her teeth. "None of us can get out of here quickly."

This is why she hates fighting in buildings.

An agent sinks a dagger into her arm deeply, and Hela rips it from her skin, gutting him with the weapon and dives out of the way as another agent attempts to hit her with the butt of his gun. The wound is bleeding, but it isn't anything more than a little annoying.

The door.

They need to be working to an exit, but the worst of the agent's are there.

Natasha lets out a loud cry and Hela glances towards her as she stumbles, and the moment of distraction is all that her enemy needs. A fist slams into her throat, and she stumbles back, hacking as she attempts to breath in her disoriented windpipe.

"Tasha!" Clint calls over the comms before he lets out a yell of pain as well.

Bullets.

They were shot, bleeding, and-and-and— _she can't breathe!_

Her eyes are watering and hysteria builds in her as she attempts to cough, but her attackers have no problem with grabbing at her. Hands wrap around her arms and shoulders, shoving her to her knees as cool metal is wrapped around her wrists.

Handcuffs?

_Breathe._

_Breathe._

Exhale.

Inhale—why is this so hard?

The comm is still spitting out random sentences that she can't make much sense of. Her senses suddenly feel dulled, and the skin that the cuffs are touching is  _burning._ It isn't from pain, she just...can't…

Her breathing has steadied enough into pained gasps and she forces her gaze to steady. The agents are still holding her to the ground, and the sounds of battle have dulled. They've gained the advantage over them.

But not for long.

Hela strains her muscles and pulls against the metal. She's torn through handcuffs before, at request of Tony when they were trying to measure strength, but the metal doesn't give. Instead, it  _takes._ A staggering pain ripples through her body, harsh, biting, and on the point of unbearable.

A loud yell tears from her without consent and blood wells in her mouth from where she was bit at her tongue. Her ears feel wet.

The pain retreats as quickly as it appear and she slumps, gasping, and turns her head a little spotting through the feet of the men around her as Thor is strapped into a similar pair of handcuffs, and someone jabs a needle into Loki's neck.

Her panicked gaze jumps from her brothers to Tony and Peter, who are being restrained in the same way. Her breath settles at last and she's tugged to her feet, stumbling at little. She licks the blood off of her lips. She doesn't try to look back at where Natasha, Clint, and Steve are on her other side, but she's seen enough to know that they didn't win this one.

000o000

She and Thor are stuffed into a small office-looking room with four agents with guns trained on them standing in the room. She lost sight of Loki after they injected the needle into him, and the thrum of panic spinning through her is one that has become all to familiar as of the late.

Any attempts that Hela or Thor try at a conversation are quickly silenced by their guards.

They've been in the small room in the uncomfortable chairs for a little over ten minutes before the door is opened and a familiar face steps through.

"Well," General Ross says thinly, a grim smile on his lips. "Isn't this a turnout?" His nose is bandaged, likely in an attempt to set it right, but the sight still feels her with some pleasure. Nonetheless, at his words, she scowls at him.

General Ross doesn't meet her gaze, "You two look just delighted to be here."

"What did you do with Loki?" Thor demands heatedly.

General Ross waves a hand, "He's well enough off. Sedated, for now, but that will change depending on how this little meeting goes." General Ross waves up a book of the Accords, "All we need is a signature."

"For what?" Hela demands, "Asgard is  _dead_ you idiot, you washed us from your Realm yourself with your actions. Who are we signing for?"

"Yourselves," the general interrupts, tone aggravated, "there's the section on other enhanced beings? Yeah, you fall under that. But that's not the point. As long as you're  _here,_ you're Asgard. You  _are_ still signing for Asgard, and the only person the U.N. requires a signature from is Hela."

"Queen," Thor intones harshly.

General Ross flicks his gaze to him, "What?"

"It's  _Queen_ Hela." Thor corrects, shifting on the seat.

Titles matter little now.

"Oh, for the love of—Listen," General Ross's voice is tight, "you have two options here. You can sign the paper, or you'll be killed for treason."

Treason?

They are not even citizens of this  _planet_ let alone one of the countries.

They truly believe they can stuff them under that label?

Hela stares at him, her jaw clenching. Her fists tighten beneath the thick cuffs. "You seem to be under the impression that you  _can_ kill us, General." She's testing fate, she knows, but what else do they have to lose? Ross takes any of their heads and Asgard  _will_ wage war on Midgard when they learn.

Are they prepared for that?

Ross's lips spread into smile and he huffs leaning back from the table. "You aren't gods. You're pathetic."

"And yet, you're so terrified of us." Hela points out, smiling grimly.

Ross's fists curl by his sides. He's quiet a moment. "This is for peace," he says, and the way he phrases it makes it sound like he's trying to convince himself more than anything else.

Hela tilts her head back, a little, tossing greasy hair from her face, "If the evacuation of my  _entire_ people wasn't enough answer, let me remind you that I already said  _no."_

Ross sighs, "I  _had_ been hoping you'd be more agreeable so it wouldn't come to this, but you're pulling strings here, Your Majesty." He tugs the handgun from his hand and clicks the safety off, pressing the barrel against Thor's forehead.

Thor's spine seizes, and Hela feels something in her chest clamp with horror.

They aren't as resistant to bullets at close range.

If Ross fires, Thor will be dead or beyond repair mentally.

Hela doesn't  _know,_ none of her people have had a bullet fired at their head before. Only elsewhere.

"What on the Norn's name do you think you're doing?" Hela demands, rising to her feet. Several more weapons click, aimed towards her chest and head, but she doesn't care. She should. But she doesn't.

" _Get. Your. Hands. Off. My. Brother."_

A hand clamps down on her shoulder, tugging her back forcefully, and her hand immediately reaches to summon a weapon only to be met by the staggering pain. Her vision blurs and she stumbles to her knees, hacking sharply her fingers going numb as blood wells in her throat. She coughs, and feels the liquid leaking from her nose.

The hands still remain on her shoulder, keeping her against the ground and she stares up at Ross. The barrel of his gun is still pressed against Thor's head.

Hela hopes, sincerely, that he  _rots._

"You're a monster," she hisses.

Ross's stance tightens and something on his face turns ugly. "I believe you've mistaken me for a mirror, Majesty. All you're doing is bringing more suffering. To you, your brothers, the Avengers, if you don't  _stop_ all of you are going to end up dead. And we'll be discussing funerals, not peace treaties."

Her muscles lurch with fury again, but the hands keep her shoved to the ground.

Ross tosses the book towards her knees, and throws a pen on top of it with his free hand. "It's your signature, or his brains." Ross digs the barrel against Thor's head and Thor winces.

Hela's breath escapes her raggedly.

Ross stares her down.

Hela stares at her brother who's quietly mouthing "no", but the barrel is still pressed against his head. He'll be dead if she doesn't…

Hela pinches her eyes shut— _Father, forgive me—_ and picks up the pen.

Her name was drawn in ink, but it could have been blood and she'd have seen no difference.

000o000

She's dragged from the room, away from Thor and shoved into a operating chair. The guards remain at the doors to the hospital-looking area, reminding her that despite how hard she fought this, she didn't make any success.

In the end, she still signed.

But she made a mess in the process of trying to avoid it.

The sharp sting her her neck she's almost numb to. She distantly hears the doctors explaining that the computer chip serves the same purpose as the cuffs and any attempts at removing it will result in volts of electricity high enough to be mistaken for a lightning bolt.

Failed.

She failed.

She didn't keep her brother's safe in the end.

General Ross enters the room shortly after the completion of the operation, and he's beaming in such a way that rouses a tired anger in the back of her head. A desire to snap his wrist, or punch his face again, but her mind is sluggish.

Slow.

Pained.

Thinking is almost...it's harder.

The chip.

What did he  _do_ to her?

"Your compliance to agree to the Accords is greatly appreciated," General Ross addresses, "but in accordance with their laws, since you tried to flee, you've been injected with the ataraxia chip. You'll wear it until we can trust that you'll abide by our laws."

Trust.

There is no  _trust_ in this.

It is fear and control.

A master and a servant.

She hates this.

Hela stares at him, her jaw tight. "I know what you're doing." She says softly.

General Ross looks amused, "And, pray tell, what is it?"

"It would easier for you to let us go, but you're not. You're using me and my brothers as incentive against Asgard should they decide to come and claim us. We're your bargaining chips." Hela's voice is tight. They're not leaving here. They're  _never_ leaving here. The pressing wires of the mechanics injected in her neck remind her of this fact again and again and again.

They're going nowhere.

General Ross's mustache twitches, but rather than try to beat around the bush, he answers simply, "Yes."

Hela digs her fingernails into her palms.

"You'll be allowed to leave CARCER V as long as you remain under house arrest for the next two years. With your brothers. All of you have arrangements at Avengers Tower." Ross explains. That's...more mercy than she was expecting. Admittedly, she'd thought that they'd separate them and then prevent any reunions.

Hela stares at him, "Not afraid that Tony will remove your virus?"

Ross laughs. "No. He has the same one. All the Avengers do now, thanks to your little escapade."

_Oh._

That's her fault.

None of this would have happened if she'd just  _signed the stupid paper weeks ago._

"Tony's not getting anywhere we don't want," Ross assures, "you go a foot out of line where we don't want and the device will leave you in a paralyzed state. Tony puts a finger on his neck to dig any of them out, or turn it off, and that's what happens to him. I'd bear that in mind, Your Majesty, because it's probably going to be a problem for you in the next few months."

Hela's jaw tightens, but she doesn't take the bait.

Thirty minutes later, she's standing outside of CARCER V with her siblings, the other Avengers, Stephen, and Peter, being escorted towards their awaiting plane. They're being shipped off back to New York like nothing happened.

Like the faint green device now stuck beneath her skin isn't there.

Like Ross hasn't done this to dozens of other enhanced.

The most prominent thing, though, is the realization of a crippling weight pressing against her shoulders. She was supposed to stop all of this. She's queen and she's Loki and Thor's  _older_ sister. She's supposed to look out for them and instead she gets them trapped on Midgard  _permanently_ and crippled. None of them can reach any sorcery, not without staggering pain and bleeding out before they get there.

They didn't solve anything in all of this.

All they did was fail.

* * *

 _"We talked about making it,_ _I'm sorry that you never made it,_

_And it pains me just to hear you have to say it,_

_You knew the game and played it,_

_It kills to know that you have been defeated"_

_-_ The Neighborhood "Wires"

* * *

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some violence.

* * *

 

Abigail Wilson has never considered herself to be someone important. Her parents weren't well known celebrities or anything and paying for college has been one of the hardest things she's done. She has a job at a local Starbucks and has served more cups of coffee than she can even count. She sleeps, works, and then goes to school. It's been a steady routine for almost four years now.

That was pretty much it.

The last month after the signing of the Accords and their release to the public has been some of the strangest that she's ever experienced. The damage from the recent villain attacks has been some of the worst that she's ever seen. Just down her street, the Wrecking Crew or some other stupidly named organization nearly tore apart her neighboring apartment complex.

She never thought that she'd miss seeing Spider-Man swinging through the streets, but after her sister was mugged last Thursday, she wishes that he was able to assist the public more. Admittedly, she was a little angry and went to the internet to read a copy of the public's Accords, trying to find some sort of reassurance that Spider-Man wasn't ignoring her sister.

He wasn't.

Technically, he's listed under "Freelance Superheroes", and they aren't allowed to assist unless called into by their local police, or a larger organization, such as the Avengers, or S.H.I.E.L.D.. Call her a little biased, but she thinks that heroes not being able to...hero, is one of the silliest things.

Maybe it's because of this that when as she takes out the trash before closing up for the day and sees three familiar figures in the alleyway, she doesn't scream and call the police. She knows that there was a recent attack by Dr. Doom or some other a few blocks from here, but her boss didn't let any of them go home, so she mostly just watched the news with a slight paranoia as it kept getting closer.

The Avengers finally called in some backup via the remaining Asgardians (which, to be frank, she thinks it's the  _stupidest_ thing that they left Earth. What did they think was going to happen? Someone insults their hair? Stupid) and they managed to get it under control at last.

The three figures that are currently behind her Starbucks she recognizes on the spot.

The Asgardians.

The...augh, Abigail has never been good at remembering names, there's the Death-Lady, Green-Snake-Man, and Thor. Two of the three are speaking rapidly in hushed tones in a language that Abigail can't place and she feels her jaw slide open a little. The man and woman with dark hair are keeping blond upright as the blond digs his hands into his neck, panting. The darker haired ones look like they're arguing.

Asgardians.

Asgardians are less than  _ten feet_ from her.

The bags slip from her grip and hits the ground with a low  _thump._ All of them flinch and look up towards her, and Abigail can see fists clench both dark haired Asgardians hands. Her stomach drops a little as she sees how prepared for murder they look.

Oh man.

She doesn't want to be murdered.

They aren't supposed to be out here. Didn't they get house arrest or something like that? Oh man, if the police come and see her standing here, they'll think that she was helping them, and then she could go to prison and she's almost done with getting her Master's and she'll be furious with them for making her lose nearly six years of hard work and—

"Do you have any water?" The dark haired man asks in English, his voice is faintly accented and deep. She flinches a little to it and her gaze flits towards his face. He's shifted a little, still keeping the blond upright, but he's staring at her earnestly.

"I…" she trails. She doesn't want to go to prison. She should just throw away the bags and then go home.

She doesn't have to think about this.

It's Asgardians.

They'll kill her.

His earnest gaze makes her pause. "Yeah. There's some in the store...Give me a minute," she says and the raven-haired man nods as Death-Lady watches her warily. Abigail awkwardly completes her garbage run before walking back into the store and grabbing one of the unopened water bottles that's in her boss's office. After one of her co-workers admitted that he had a type of cellular mutation that prevented his body from staying hydrated, her boss made a point to keep free water on hand for all of them.

It's one of the reasons that Abigail has stayed at this Starbucks for so long, her boss needs a Nobel Peace Prize or something.

Except when he makes them stay at the store during villain attacks.

But no matter.

After a moment of hesitation, Abigail takes three of the water bottles and then journeys outside. She half expects the Asgardian's to be gone again, like some sort of cliche superhero movie, but they haven't shifted much. Raven-haired rises to meet her and she fumbles a bit with the bottles.

"I, um, got one for each of you," she explains at his stare, "I wasn't sure how much water you wanted, so I…"

Raven-haired nods and takes the water bottle that she shoves out towards him. He walks back towards the blond, twisting the cap off. Death-Lady shifts a little to help the blond sit up more and murmurs something in the language that Abigail doesn't understand.

It doesn't even sound like something she  _knows._

"So, uh," she starts and mentally curses her inability to hold a conversation for the umpteenth time, "what's wrong with him?"

Death-Lady and Raven-hair look up at her. Abigail gestures in the blond-that-could-be-Thor's direction. "Did he get hurt? In the battle? I don't think that we have a first-aid kit in the back, but we might."

Raven-hair shakes his head, and Death-Lady scowls a little. "No," Raven-hair says quietly, and rubs at the back of his neck a little. As the hair shifts away from his neck, Abigail sees a brief flash of some sort of computer-looking-device embedded beneath his skin. Her eyes widen with disgust and surprise.

 _What_ is  _that?_

Is it some sort of Asgardian thing?

Raven-hair says something to the blond in that weird tongue and holds up the water bottle, but the blond shakes his head, rapidly explaining in the same tongue about something that Abigail can't place, but she's guessing has to do with the idea that he'll be sick. Death-Lady's eyes shut with frustration.

Abigail suddenly feels like she's intruding on something very private.

She lifts out the remaining water bottles, "Here," she addresses, and quietly pleads with them to take it so that way she can leave.

Death-Lady reluctantly leaves the blond's side and takes the two plastic bottles from her. "Thank you," she says in English, her voice is faintly traced with the same accent as Raven-hair.

Abigail nods and moves to walk away, but stops as Raven-hair answers her earlier question: "He's sick."

Abigail's eyebrows furrow a little and she looks back at them, "I thought that Asgardian's couldn't get sick."

Death-Lady's expression twists with a mirthless smile, and Raven-hair stares at her blankly. His expression is masked to the point that it's unnerving. "It isn't from bacteria," Death-Lady assures and blond groans a little, still rubbing at his neck. Abigail stares a little harder and squints when she sees that he's rubbing at a similar looking computer-device-thing.

It looks like it hurts.

Not Asgardian-thing, then?

What  _is_ it?

"You shouldn't be here," Abigail blurts out, her thoughts scrambling along the idea of prison again. "I mean, you're like, on house arrest or something, and if the police catch me talking to you…"

The two share a look of frustration before Raven-hair nods, "Yes, of course, I'm sorry Miss…"

"Wilson," she answers, unsure why she's doing so, "Abigail Wilson."

"Forgive us, Miss Wilson. The Avengers are supposed to pick us up in a few minutes. Our brother couldn't make it back to Avengers Tower." Raven-hair explains and Abigail stares at them. Brother. She stares between the three and can pick out a little resemblance between Death-Lady and the blond, but beyond the hair there is no facial features between Raven-hair and everyone else.

Siblings.

They're  _siblings?_

Abigail…Abigail had no idea. This whole time she thought it was just a group of random Asgardian's that got stuck here when the rest of their people fled. But their family. Abigail's jaw does fall a little, then, and her heart twists a little with sympathy.

She gets Death-Lady and Raven-hair each a breakfast bagel (yeah, it's a few bucks on her loans, but these are heroes. They save her butt every other week and it's a way to give back, if just a little), and as the blond slowly returns back to consciousness he drinks the water and Abigail gets him a bagel, too.

They don't talk much, but Abigail invites them into the Starbucks as they wait and finishes her chores. About fifteen minutes from when she found them, the door opens and Abigail comes face-to-face with  _Tony Stark._

She stumbles over her words like an idiot as she shakes his hand and he thanks her for letting the Asgardians stay in the store, and then they for leave to the awaiting car outside being driven by  _Black Widow._

But her shock and glee is dampened a little with confusion as she sees the same computer-chip-thing in Mr. Stark's neck as he passes through the door. What on earth is  _that?_ She finishes sweeping and turns off all the lights, then sneaks into her boss's office doing a quick internet search on the Accords and "neck-chips".

Nothing comes up.

Her lips tilt down a little, but her Master's was in criminal investigation, so she's not satisfied with the meager information the internet offered her. She calls her internship's boss at two AM in the morning and only realizes that it's two AM when he tells her so, then demands to know if he has any information about neck-chips and the Accords.

"Oh, Ms. Wilson," Captain Downey says in annoyance, "let it rest, alright? I don't know a flipping pig's foot about neck-chips. Why does it even matter, anyway? They're Avengers."

But there's something that unsettles her, and she wants to get to the bottom of it.

Her captain hangs up on her and Abigail huffs a little, but quietly promises to get to discover what the issue is.  _Sick_ , Death-Lady had insisted, but sick with  _what?_

000o000

Officer Suzki has been working his job for more than fifteen years and in all that time, he has to admit that his job was a great deal easier with heroes he could just call for assistance. Before the Accords happened, he could call his boss who would then get a hold of the Avenger's AI, and the situation would be taken care of in typically under an hour.

Now that option isn't available to him.

They deal with the threats themselves and it usually ends up with more broken bones than most of the NYPD wants to admit. But he's spoken personally to most of the Avengers and Iron Man can almost remember his name now.

It's still a bit of a surprise that as he's ducking for cover amidst the mess of a building battle that Iron Man drops down beside him with Black Widow promptly falling forward. Officer Suzki grabs her on instinct and surprise, looking up towards Iron Man.

"Uh, Sir?" He questions.

Iron Man's face plate pulls up, his expression tight with what looks like pain and his hands shift towards his face a little as he reaches the other hand out to grip Black Widow's shoulder. "Sorry, sorry, we're still waiting for the A-Okay."

Officer Suzki stares at him with confusion. "The "A-Okay"?"

Black Widow groans and slumps in his grip further, hand coming up to claw at her neck where Officer Suzki notices a computer-like-chip in her neck. It's glowing and the sight of it makes him a little uncomfortable. Iron Man catches his teammates wrist forcing her to stop.

"Tony," comes the ragged hiss of disagreement.

"Tash, you're going to claw your skin off again, and you  _know_ how much worse it is when there's open cuts above it." Iron Man says pointedly. They look as though they've had the discussion a dozen times and it makes him uncomfortable.

Officer Suzki's gaze flicks between the two for a second.

Iron Man looks at him, "Will you  _please_ just call your flipping boss so they'll turn it off and we can help?"

"I—uh," Officer Suzki sputters out and then grabs his phone, dialing the number. Under three minutes later, both straighten considerably and Black Widow draws her gun, stretching her neck as though  _it_ never happened.

"Thank you." Iron Man says and grabs his teammate, rocketing up into the air.

Officer Suzki stares at the spot they were for a long second.

Clawing it off until there's broken cuts?

Computer chips?

Where did all this come from?

The Accords?

But when Officer Suzki searches for any information, he doesn't find it. A discomfort settles in his stomach and he chews at the end of his pen. He's been working with the Avengers for more than a year now, and he'd be a liar to say that he's not a little possessive of them. So  _whose_ decision was it to embed chips like that into them?

And what the  _heck_ do those chips do?

000o000

Isabella Jenson stumbles across Spider-Man laying face first in an alleyway, curled around himself with his head tucked into his chest and gasping for breath that's clearly not coming, and blood leaking from his nose. Spider-Man has always been her daughter's favorite superhero, and she's not one to pass up the opportunity to help.

She slinks down the alley and kneels down next to him, gently reaching a hand out to lay on his shoulder.

Spider-Man flinches back from her touch.

"Hey," she soothes, "I'm just here to help. What's the problem, Mr. Spider-Man?" Spider-Man gasps out a breath, and his hand tightens around a spot on his neck where Isabella can faintly make out some sort of computer chip.

Spider-Man, famous for his wit and tongue, only offers her a faint, "I can't patrol. I  _can't patrol._ It's not allowed."

He never tells her what the issue is, only mumbling nonsense and she manages to get him  _here_ enough to get to his contact list on his phone and she calls the first number that she associated with the Avengers, which is Thor.

Fifteen minutes later, Tony Stark is rushing into the alleyway, and thanks her for calling, and drags Spider-Man back towards an awaiting vehicle, reprimanding him about something along the lines of " _you know you can't do that anymore. How many times have we talked about this?"._

Isabella's eyes narrow with concern.

000o000

Mike Robertson finds Hawkeye on his apartment building, gasping for breath.

Daria Ivanova runs into Black Widow as she flees from the monster attacking Moscow, not unconscious, or injured, but unable to move because of pain.

Wanda and Pietro Maximoff drag a convulsing Asgardian from the wreckage of a building.

The NYPD files a complaint with the governor about the Avenger's inability to help because of "chips".

Three thousand and ninety-two complaints are filed to the NYPD about Spider-Man's noted absence.

Fifty-two complaints are filed to the U.N. from governments about the Avengers not able to reach their city in enough time to stop the causalities.

000o000

"Hey, Hon?" Tiffany's husband, Chris, questions and Tiffany hums in question from where she's sipping at her coffee at their table. He drops his laptop beside her with a frown on his face, "Have you seen this?"

"Mmm?" Tiffany questions, and looks towards the computer screen, her eyes widening a little at the headline.

_UNKNOWN SIDE EFFECT OF THE "ACCORDS" COMES PUBLIC FIVE MONTHS AFTER SIGNING._

Her eyes flick up to her husband with confusion.

Chris takes a seat beside her and scoots the laptop a little out of the way. "You know how there's been a lot more damage without the freelance heroes able to do anything?" She nods a little. Her brother was in one of the recent attacks by the Serpent Society, he was barely released from the hospital two days ago. "So turns out that the Accords weren't nearly as "public" as we were led to believe."

Tiffany frowns, her chest tightening with discomfort. "What happened?"

Chris blows out a breath. "You know, I don't know if it was one thing. The public…we just...were a lot more observant than the U.N. was giving us credit for. Apparently a woman by the name of Ms. Abigail Wilson released an official report last night detailing these computer-chips that were injected into all the hero's necks."

Tiffany's hand comes up to her mouth. "They wouldn't…"

"And  _this,"_ Chris switches to a new tab, "is the official Accords that the heroes were forced to sign. S.H.I.E.L.D. released it to the public last night after Ms. Wilson's report was given. Everyone is furious."

Tiffany scrolls through a little of the Accords and her stomach churns with discomfort. This is  _vastly_ different than what she briefly looked at when she and her company read it a few months ago. (It's almost been half a  _year_ now).

"No one noticed until now?" Tiffany questions, feeling strangely sick.

Chris shakes his head, "No,  _everyone_ noticed, look at social media. Everyone is pretty furious. There's hundreds of stories popping up from everyone about circumstances where they saw the chips affect the way the Avengers and the others ran."

Tiffany clenches her jaw tightly, "Why do they even have the chips? Shouldn't the Accords just be permission to get into other countries so long as they operate under their laws?"

"I don't know, hon," Chris says and sighs a little, leaning back, "but the U.N. made a mess of what they did put together, and we, as a united  _world,_ are going to fix that. I don't know about you, but the fact that they thought any of this is okay makes me want to hit something."

"I've got my old bat in the back," Tiffany offers, "I'm going to round up my reporters." She says firmly and scrolls through a few more sections of the Accords, her curiosity getting the better of her. Everyone knows that Asgard fled because of the Accords, but it had never even occurred to her that something beyond being bloodthirsty was happening.

The further she reads, the most disgusted she grows.

It is no wonder that they ran.

Save the four who got left behind.

Which—Tiffany frowns a little and opens a new tab, searching " _Members of Avengers Team"_. Several sites pop up, but she clicks their official Twitter page and glances towards the heading. Everyone is listed under their alias except three: Hela Odinsdottier, Thor Odinson, and Loki Odinson.

Odin. Odin was the Norse king of the gods.

And if  _they_ exist then it has to be based off of some truth and—

Tiffany swears under her breath, looking up at her husband, "Chris, the U.N. took their leaders," she says, "they let Asgard go, but they kept their leaders and their  _royalty_ as a bargaining chip if Asgard wanted to return."

_What sick, twisted—_

She grabs her cell, and dials a number that she's barely called more than a few times—typically only to yell at him—and the phone picks up with a loud, " _What do you want!?"_ on the other end.

"Jameson," Tiffany greets, "Good morning to you, too. Listen, I need some help. You've heard the news about the Accords, right?"

000o000

"Is Spider-Man a menace!? What's more menacing? A person who runs around under the jurisdiction of the Avengers, or the fact that the Accords got so out of hand that they were shoving lies under our noses? Who told them that was okay? People of New York, it is our  _duty_ to look out for the freedom's of America and we're not doing any of that.

"Look at how members of our own country are being treated under this law—it's barbaric. These are human beings with families and flesh and blood.  _The Accords must go_!"

000o000

"Asgardians were refugees and we treated them as if they were lesser than us. Look at what the U.N. has forced them to do! It is no  _wonder_ that Asgard fled from us. They did not go because they were bloodthirsty or angry, they fled because it was the only way to keep themselves alive! There is so much here that is without reason— _The Accords must go!"_

000o000

"CBS news here with recent graffiti found all over the country and even the globe—look at all this art declaring only one thing. It would appear that the public has one message for us today, Phil, and it's this:  _The Accords must go!"_

000o000

"I'm here at Washington D.C., where word is that the President of the United States has gotten a meeting with the Avengers to publicly apologize in behalf of the United States for the Accords that have terrorized heros for the last six months—"

"We're here in London where the Prime Minister has declared that they—"

"...At the public apology from Norway to Queen Hela of Asgard on behalf of…"

"Here with the—"

"...apology from…"

"—express their condolences—"

"—hoping that it changes what happened all those months ago—"

"—Recently received word that—"

"But despite all these public apologies of good intentions, the public is still not satisfied."

000o000

"Abigail Wilson here," Abigail says into the microphone, wringing her hands a little at her discomfort. "After extensive research from dozens of other investigators like myself, we have finally discovered where the corruption lies in the Accords—General Thaddeus Ross has been found guilty of threats of blackmail to dozens of the official writers. Our research indicated that after a personal threat offered by Queen Hela on the day that a secret U.S. prison known only as "CARCER V" that General Ross planned to stop Asgard in anyway he could.

"His plans included dragging the other Avengers down with him, but what General Ross hadn't planned for was the public uprise that aroused from his idiotic actions. To be frank, I can't imagine what else he was expecting. The Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D., Spider-Man, Asgard—they're  _our_ heroes. Not the governments.

"Sure, they keep officials alive and knock a few heads back together when they need to, but for us, the small citizen? We matter to them. They're our heroes, and it's time that we give them something back. General Ross never wrote the Accords to help us  _or_ them— _The Accords must go!"_

000o000

"Well, Rachel," Josh says and looks towards his co-reporter behind the desk as he shifts the papers a little, "Ross's Accords were finally been dismantled last week after a three-month long war from the public, marking eight months since their official formation. What do you think is going to be the next action taken?"

Rachel's lips purse a little and she glances towards the script beneath her. She's quiet a moment and Josh can see her reading the words, but unhappy with them. He's not even surprised when she ignores it completely: "You know, I'm not sure. General Ross is facing capital punishment—and to be frank—I can't say I'd be rooting for anything else."

Josh's jaw falls a little, and he too, ignores their previously written script, "I agree. He touched our heroes. I'd go after him myself with a canon if I could."

A small smile perks Rachel's lips.

Josh's head tilts a little, "What about New Asgard, and Queen Hela's, the Prince's, and the Valkyire's disappearance last week? Do you think that it was a wise decision?"

Rachel nods, "I do. They'll always be welcome here, and now they know that for certain. We'd all fight with only our  _teeth_ if it was going to keep them safe—but, I think that them vanishing was to be expected. They've been prisoner for a long time here, now, and I just...honestly, I hope that they're really,  _really_ happy wherever they are."

Josh nods, "Me too."

000o000

Hela grins a little crookedly from her position on the floor of Avengers Tower, glancing towards where her siblings and Brunnhilde are laughing loudly as they relentlessly poke fun at Tony's cooking. The other Avengers are gathered in the room in small groups, and she can hear them talking.

It's their last night here before they return to Nidavellir to join their people, but for now, they're enjoying the mess of a family that the Avengers have created until they need to leave.

Hela tilts her head back and shuts off the TV, contentedly closing her eyes as she hears Tony plead with Jane for help against her husband and brother-in-law that Hela doesn't see him receiving.

"Don't worry," Hela murmurs to the quiet screen, but thinking back on the comment, "we are."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR READING! =D You're all amazing!
> 
> Hugs from me to you!
> 
> I have greatly appreciated your support, guys! :D
> 
> -GalaxyThreads


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